


Reflections in the Eyes

by RoseOfPhantom



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseOfPhantom/pseuds/RoseOfPhantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien's cousin has returned after three years in America, and she struggles to readjust to not just a life as a family member of a wealthy mega fashion empire founder, but also as a normal girl after being traumatized and left with pain from the events that happened to her several years ago. A little wild and untamed, she sometimes creates more problems with her solutions than dissolves them. Through Adrien's help, she learns how to live fully, love honestly, and what a family is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arriveé

One step onto the pavement outside the Charles de Gaulle airport evaporated the next breath she let out.  She was back.  After three years abroad, she was back in her childhood city of Paris, France.  After the events she had left behind just a few years ago, it was necessary for her healing to get away, but it would be something of a lie if she said she had not yearned for the bustle around Paris city and the smells of various food as she window shopped through the Champs Elysees.  America was a true experience she found both revolting and enticing, and a piece of her heart remained.  But Paris was home.  No other place could hold the beauty of the artistic structures and romantic architecture that was Paris.  Nothing felt so good as to breathe that air once-

            “Hey!” she screamed out, as a dirty puddle slapped back at her ankles.  Some rude driver yelled at her not to stand too close to the road while Bridgette Lemieux brushed off the front of her faded black wash jeans.  Okay, so perhaps she had romanticized it a little, but it was hard not to do after such a long period of time away from the hometown she reluctantly left.  She moaned at the feel of her soggy jeans, sticking to her shins and scoffed.  She thought she remembered Parisians to be a little nicer than this.  Really, they were just the same as Americans.

            “Mademoiselle Lemieux?” greeted the most professional looking woman Bridgette had ever seen.  She was dressed in a tight black business suit, complete with a blazer and slacks.  Her glasses were thick rimmed and spoke in.  However, there was a red streak in her charcoal hair, pulled tight into a ball behind her head that made Bridgette wonder if she had a secret rebellious side she couldn’t let out other than in her hair.

            “Uh… Nathalie, I presume?” Bridgette formally addressed.  Nathalie gave her a small smile and gestured for her to hand over the large red rolling suitcase she had been dragging behind her.  Bridgette obliged and followed the woman to a limo, noticing she had the most perfect stance to ever exist on anyone in the world.  Still, she carefully walked towards the vehicle, taking a moment to look around her before ducking into the vehicle, noting the door was being held open for her by a slender, but built bodyguard.  This couldn’t be the same bodyguard as Adrien had talked about – according to him, his almost reminded him of a gorilla.  In fact, that was his nickname.  Once seated, Nathalie made the way around the other side of the limo to sit next to Bridgette.  Thick silence suffocated them as Bridgette desperately tried to think of something to say.  Since she had left Paris, the only person she ever received word from was Adrien, so these people felt like strangers to her.  Nathalie was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t recall her being so… professional before.  After what Adrien had said, it concerned her about how Gabriel would react when he saw her… especially after his wife…

            “Adrien is enthusiastically expecting your return,” Nathalie said, tapping away at a laptop she had rested in front of her.  Bridgette patted the wet spot left by the puddle splash on her dark jeans.  “I expect you two have many things you wish to discuss.  I shall reserve a table for you at Allard for dinner.”

            “No, no, no,” Bridgette protested, taking her eyes away from the pedestrians who were moving to and fro across the landscape before her window.  “Please, not the Allard.  I don’t want a huge fuss made, please.”  Last she had heard, the Allard was serving some of the strange, old-fashioned dishes that perhaps the Agreste family was used to, but she had never developed the taste for it herself.  “Something a little…. Simpler, maybe?”

            “Very well.  Table for two at the… Mon Vieil Ami.”  Nathalie began to punch in the numbers on her phone.

            “No, no, please that’s still too gourmet.  Can’t we do something a little more… common?”  Nervously, she twisted her chestnut hair into a lackadaisical plait.

            “Common?” Nathalie questioned. “I am sure Mr. Agreste-”

            “Is not my father.  He doesn’t control me or do as I say.”

            “As long as you are in his care-”

            “The deal with Gabriel was that I do not get in his way, don’t get into trouble, and accept the task he gives me as a sort of favor  Nowhere in there did he say follow every single thing about where I could eat..”  Nathalie sighed in defeat and then nodded, tucking her phone away.

            “Very well.  What would you suggest?”

            “There’s a large kitchen with gourmet chefs and a dining room with a large table.  Why can’t we have a dinner at home while we catch up?”  Nathalie sighed once more, although it was less in annoyance and more with thought.  Perhaps she was thinking of how Mr. Agreste would react.  Satisfied, Bridgette looked back out the window, taking in the sights of the Paris she had missed while the limo wound around the city.  She caught a good look of the Arc de Triomphe as they circled around it.  She peered into the Seine as they crossed a bridge, and she watched lovers, families, and friends chat and walk.  Some tourists, some residents.  The sun played with its rays casting onto the streets and faces in such a way it left a soft glow around darkened silhouettes.  _Paris, C’est magnifique!_

            With the center of the city behind them, it wasn’t long before the limo pulled in between the opening of the wrought iron gates that stood before the _chateau de Agreste._  A home that seemed to have grown in size since the last time Bridgette had seen it.  Even as she was older and taller, the steps leading up towards the heavy double doors still intimidated her.  Among the buildings and residencies that surrounded it and blocked it in, how was she supposed to keep her head low by staying there?  Especially with an ostentatious face of the finest art deco and the roofs of varying sizes and shape.  It stuck out like a sore thumb, as she had heard the Americans say.  It had a wonderful prime view of the Eiffel Tower… but if she was being honest, nighttime was the only time it was a spectacle.  Then it was all lit up.  During the day, it really just appeared to be a bunch of rusted metal riveted together.

            Still, it was good to see images around her of home once again, and when the door open and she stepped out, she forgot about her soaked pants for a minute to take in the familiar air.  She buzzed when let it sink in that she was back.  A weird, giddy feeling rose up and made her feel light with glee.  Three years was far too long.

            The driver removed her luggage from the back and pulled it along for her as Nathalie led her up the steps.  Bridgette’s mouth wouldn’t close.  She stared agape at the well maintained lawn and the high reaching wall that enclosed the mansion from the rest of the world.  It seemed to have gotten higher in that last few years, Bridgette noted.  She didn’t think it was that tall when Mrs. Agreste had been around.  However, the wall was quickly forgotten when she stepped inside.  The floor beneath her shone so brilliantly, it could have been a mirror and caused the black design inlay in the floor to pop out even more.  It was almost a floral damask design, and helped pull in the black accents alongside the windows and creeping round the walls.  There was a gentle touch of color in the red spiked plants that sat on either side of the doors.  The walls and staircase gleaned as if they were chiseled out of marble, and the ceiling was higher than most apartment buildings were tall.  A simple whisper was echoed across the vast entryway and shot towards the man standing at the top of the ascending staircase in front of her.  Behind him hung a massive painting of Adrien and him.  In the photo, Adrien didn’t look too happy.

            “Gabriel,” Bridgette said, smiling.  Despite what she had been told by Adrien over the past few years, she still couldn’t help the way her heart swelled with elation when she saw him.

            “Bridgette,” he greeted emotionlessly.  “I am glad to see you arrived mostly intact.”  His eyes fell to the hem of her jeans, which were still noticeably damp.   She looked down and awkwardly chuckled.  It was a little embarrassing for a fashion designer to notice her clothes were a mess.  “I’ll have Nathalie show you to your room and you can change into something drier.  You decided to not go to dinner this evening?”

            “No, sir.  I simply wanted to sit down to dinner… the three of us.”

            “Hmm. Yes, well I’ll have the cooks prepare something for us… perhaps a _confit de canard_?”  Before she could even answer, he had turned back around.  Mr. Agreste had always been intimidating when he looked down at her with those large blue eyes through his glasses but he seemed far more stoic than usual and rather cold.  Bridgette frowned as Nathalie led her up the stairs and around the hallways.  She watched the décor on the walls as she passed them; many paintings which she was sure were originals, and priceless pieces of art.  As well as fashion magazine cover after fashion magazine cover.  Mr. Agreste took pride in his fashion company and seemed to enjoy displaying that success around his home.  She did also find the occasional family photo, and some just with Mr. and Mrs. Agreste in them.  Some of just Adrien.  Some with Adrien and his mother.  And then there was one single picture in the center of it all of simply Mrs. Agreste, wearing a long flowing dress and looking as radiant as she always was.  Bridgette’s heart sunk.

            “Here we are,” Nathalie said, pushing open a door at the end of the hall.  The bedroom was bigger than the entire common area of the boarding school Bridgette attended in America.  An entire family could probably live in the area alone.  At that moment, she was struck with a painful culture shock.  Her chest clenched with guilt at everything that surrounded her in the room – a king sized bed adorned with the softest teal cover, and probably made of the finest fabric.  Walls painted an ombre of white and teal, falling darker from ceiling to floor. A cherry wood bookcase that was intricately designed and probably handmade, with a desk to match.  There was a 60 inch flat screen on the wall that Bridgette coughed at seeing.  It felt like it was overkill.  There was a Neo-Victorian lavender chaise in the corner, and the doors in the corner opened to a closet that could hold an entire apartment in it.  Bridgette felt she was beginning to lose her breathe at the largeness of the area.  Nathalie looked at her sideways, appearing concerned.  Then there was the bathroom, which was much the same size as the closet.  Blinding white and sparkling clean of course.  The shower took half the room, and there was even a Jacuzzi in the other corner. And of _course,_ the toilet, the hand dryer, the soap… everything was automatic.  “I hope you will find everything to your satisfaction.  Adrien said you still liked lavender and teal, correct?”

            “Yes, Nathalie.  Thank you, it’s a very nice room.”

            “I suspect it will be a couple of hours before dinner.  So take your time, settle in, and unpack.  Maybe find something nice to wear for dinner and… welcome back home, Miss Lemieux.”

            “Bridgette,” she corrected her as she watched Mr. Agreste’s assistant prepare to close the door behind her whilst leaving.  Nathalie paused. “Er, I mean… Please, Nathalie.  Call me Bridgette.  If I am to be living here then you should call me Bridgette.”

            “Of course… Glad to have you Bridgette.”  Nathalie gave her the slightest of smiles before quietly letting the door close.  Bridgette moaned for a long while as she collapsed on the bed.  Despite having grown up around this luxurious life, she had grown more accustomed to the simpler life in America.  She wasn’t sure she was ready to be thrown back into the thick of things.  It just felt suffocating.

            Bridgette threw open her overstuffed suitcase that had been left and sifted through it to find something even moderately suitable for a nicer dinner.  The last time she had duck was probably in Paris, three years ago.  Pushing aside some jeans, blouses, and pajamas, her fingers fell around a small frame, closing a picture of a young, happy family.  A woman with green eyes and blonde hair, sweet and warm looking.  A man, with brown hair and hazel eyes.  Strong, determined, and muscular.  On the lap of the woman was a toddler in dark brown pigtails, with the same bright green eyes as the mother and nose dotted in a dusting of freckles.  Everyone was smiling.  Bridgette sighed, then carefully walked the photo towards the closet.  She found a drawer on the side of the closet, took a long look at the picture.

            Then she chucked it into the drawer and slammed it shut.


	2. Différend

Just because you can afford the biggest doesn’t necessarily mean you should get the biggest.  That was Bridgette’s thought when Nathalie led her into the dining room which was dominated by the twenty-four foot table in the center.  It was surrounded by several chairs, wich only purpose they could serve would be for entertaining guests and dinner parties.  There were three places set – one on either end, and then one beside the one closest to the large arching windows that had the curtains drawn back to allow in light.

            “I’m the first one here?” Bridgette asked, and Nathalie nodded.

            “Mr. Agreste will be here soon.  I will go and fetch Adrien right now.”  The professional woman left the room in search of the young heir.  Bridgette looked down at her clothes.  It had been some time since she last wore such a frock.  It was a simple purple, with the hem ending at her knees.  There was a second layer of material over her skirt, a floral sheer lace veil, with fluttery sleeves of the same material.  A black sash separated the two sections of the dress.  Bridgette stumbled as she tried to walk in a pair of black peep toe heels, accented by small bows.  After a half hour of messing about with her hair, she had decided just to straighten it, and let it hang down, but made sure to brush her bangs out of her face.  She nibbled on the edge of her black polished nail.  She was feeling uneasy.

            It was a strange mixture.  As much as she loved Gabriel, she still felt strange about him.  He was so intimidating and one of the most successful men in Paris.  It was hard not to feel judged around him.  But then, she was also ecstatic about seeing Adrien again and being able to begin her life anew.  The boarding school was a great escape from her world and its inner workings. However, she began to feel out of place and like she didn’t belong.  She was very grateful for Mr. Agreste and his hospitality.

            Her hand stretched out to grab the chair on the side, when another hand beat hers.  She gasped and looked at what seemed to be a young man’s hand, and a white ring sticking up from one of the fingers. 

            “Let me get that for you, Miss!” happily greeted a chipper voice.  The deepness surprised Bridgette.  It sounded like Adrien but… not?  Last she had heard his voice, it was cracking changing octaves within a single sentence.  This was smooth, confident, and manly.  There was no way. 

            The chair was pulled out and he took her hand, helping her to lower herself into the seat.  Bridgette dared to look at him – and screamed.

            “Adrien!” she screeched and forgot all ladylike manners when she threw herself at him into a constricting hug. “Oh my gosh I can’t believe it’s you!  I’m here, I’m actually here!   Oh your hair….!  Just look at those golden locks!”  Adrien chuckled at her excitement. “ Oh man, are you getting facial hair?  The magazines don’t do you justice, you are such a good-looking man!”

            “Uh, thanks, Bridge.”

            “Man, you must have several admirers falling at your feet… Is that a bicep I feel?”  Bridgette squeezed his arm, eyes widening at the density of his arm. “Whatever you’re doing it’s looking good on you. But oh… those eyes haven’t changed.”  She held his face and peered lovingly at the green in his irises – the same green she had in her own eyes.  The same green as their mothers shared.  Adrien hugged her again, patting her dark waves on her head.

            “It’s good to see you too, Bridgette.  You’ve become a very gorgeous woman.  I can see why you your emails always complained about men.”  Bridgette rolled her eyes, remembering all too well the details she had shared with him.

            “It had nothing to do with the real me,” Bridgette told him in a disappointed manner. “I was an exotic.  I’m French. And many American men have this idea that foreign women are willing to do anything.”  A man cleared his throat and the two teenagers quickly took their seats while Gabriel Agreste walked into the room, sitting at the head of the table.  Behind him were a row of servants, bringing out carts with food.  The platters with the silver dome covers were place in front of them and then the lids were removed to present specially prepared duck.  Bridgette poked at it with her fork.

            “Were you able to settle in all right, Bridgette?” Mr. Agreste asked, as he prepared to cut into the duck. 

            “Yes.  I didn’t bring much so I was able to unpack fairly quickly.”

            “Well, just let me know if you are in need of something and I can send someone to get it for you.”

            “I think  I’m okay for now, thanks.”  Bridgette melted when the first bit of duck met her tongue.  Such familiar tastes, and such exquisite cooking.  It simply exploded in her mouth and gushing out several savory flavors at once.

            “There are a few things I needed to run by you.  Bridgette, you requested that I keep you out of the public eye as much as possible.  I cannot go to the lengths you wish.”

            “What?”  Her fork clattered onto her plate.

            “You are the niece of one of the top fashion designers in Paris, and cousin to the top model.  How do you expect me to keep you a secret? Especially when the media is constantly outside and are sure to see you coming and going?”

            “It’s not so much that it’s them finding out I am family.  For all they know,  I could be a relative of one of the staff members.”

            “Unfortunately I will not be able to do that.  As it just so happens I am in need of a female model.”

            “What?!” Adrien and Bridgette both shouted.

            “I need a female counterpart with Adrien.  I need someone close in age, someone I can trust.  Someone the media doesn’t know.”

            “But I’ve never done any modeling!  I have no idea, I’ve just watched you work when I was young.  I don’t even have the looks, I didn’t get the perfect bone structure and body the Agrestes have.”  As she spoke, her hand quickly went to her stomach to cover the muffin top that had formed when she sat down. 

            “You’ll be fine.”

            “Father, it’s not something she has an interest in.  You told me you were bringing her back because it was time to come home and that it was crucial for her to move on from everything.”  Mr. Agreste sighed and patiently folded his hands.  Bridgette set her fork down and looked into her lap nervously.  Within her chest cavity, there was some sort of pressure, similar to indigestion.  It tried to push up as she pushed it down.  Incredibly awkward discomfort was beginning to grip her stomach.

            “It’s… my payment,” Bridgette mumbled. “And my punishment, I guess.”

            “Punishment?” Adrien questioned, looking between the two of them. “Why are you being punished?”

            “I should have figured that the ‘task’ would be this…”  Bridgette was still talking very quietly so Adrien could not hear what she was saying.

            “Bridgette, do you care to tell him?  Or will I have to?” Mr. Agreste’s voice was foreboding and indicated that there was more to the story about why she couldn’t stay in America.

            “Tell me what?”

            “Adrien… in the emails… I may have made it seem that I was getting along better than I really was,” she slowly began to explain.  “Yes, there were points where I genuinely enjoyed being there.  But other points where… things were difficult.”

            “That’s to be expected, you went through something traumatic.”

            “No, I mean…”  Mr. Agreste decided she was taking too long to explain the situation and told the story for her.

            “Bridgette failed,” Mr. Agreste said bluntly. “She stayed on longer than she should have, as the teachers there were understanding and knew she would need some time.  But after three years, her grades weren’t improving.  I had Nathalie check in on her from time to time, calling the school and following her progress report online.”

            “The grading system in America is much harsher than it is here!  They push the letter grades so much higher, you can’t really expect-”

            “While that is true, do you know how many of those calls ended with you skipping class with some boy?”  Adrien turned to look over at her.

            “Bridgette?” he asked, but he learned everything from the way she had fixed her eyes on her shoes, tears ready to spill over her lashes.

            “In your parents’ absence, you are my responsibility.”  Mr. Agreste dabbed the sides of his mouth with a cloth napkin.  “I had hoped some time away from home, from the press, from Paris would help you heal.  But all you have done is disappoint.  You are sixteen years old, Bridgette.  You are too young to be sneaking off with some boy, and multiple ones at that.”  All Adrien could do the entire time was watch her as she buried her face in her hands. “On top of that, you skipped class.  No, my only choice was to pull you away and keep you here where I can keep an eye on you.  You will also join Adrien in the photoshoots when I tell you to.”

            “Yes, Gabriel,” she sniffed, leaving a black line across her cheek when she wiped her eye.

            “You realize I didn’t have to step up and take you in.”  Adrien shot a glare at his father and stretched and arm around Bridgette.

            “She gets that you’re mad, you don’t have to upset her anymore.”  He began to rub her back.       

            “If my wife-”

            “I get it!” Bridgette screamed, her voice sending a vibration through the whole of the table, and the legs shaking as she slammed her fists against the surface. “You didn’t want to take me in!  You only did it because my mother is your sister-in-law and your wife loved her so much!  I’m an obligation, not wanted!”  Mr. Agreste paused and pushed himself out of the chair.

            “I never said that.  I am simply saying you should be grateful.” He strode towards the door, and then rested his hand on the handle. “You will continue your studies here while Adrien goes to school.  I cannot trust you in a public school.”

 “Wait a minute, Father.  What if she came to school with a bodyguard, like I do? If -” Adrien tried to bargain but Mr. Agreste simply held up a hand to stop him.

 “She is terribly behind on her studies and needs one on one tutoring.”

 “Then catch up after school!  Don’t be like this all over again!  She has no friends here, any of the ones she had-!”

 “End of conversation.” With that parting message, he walked out of the room, footsteps softening until he was gone. Her shoulders rose dramatically and fell greatly with each heavy breath she took.  Her head was still being cradled in her hands and she stared at the half finished duck, appetite gone. 

 “Adrien…” she said in between breaths.

 “Bridgey, I don’t understand.  Why didn’t you tell me this?  What happened in America?”  Quickly, she sat up straight and smoothed out her skirt.  She used the cloth napkin to first dab her eyes and then wipe her nose.  Her green eyes gleamed at Adrien.

 “It’s what he said.  I left class to go make out with some guys.  Time better spent anyway.”

 “What?”

 “It’s fine!  Maybe he’s right and I’ll be able to focus better on my studies.  No distractions, right? No boys, and no friends.  With nothing else to focus on I should have straight As.”

“But what-”

 “Gabriel had a conference call over Skype with the principal about once a month about an update on my progress, in between Nathalie checking up on me.  Eventually he told him that as try as they might, I wasn’t making any progress and would rather go after boys then get an education.  As soon as I was expelled, Gabriel called me and told me he was putting me on a flight back to Paris in a week and that I could only stay with you guys if I agreed to a do him a favor and help him with whatever task he asked of me.”

 “Not much of a favor.”

 “Even so.  I need a bed and food.”

 “Okay but if you’re easily distracted, does he really think you wouldn’t chase after boys here?  It’s _Paris_ , it’s a huge city with lots of tourists.”  Bridgette chuckled.

 “Oh come on.  I would wager a guess that Gabriel is going to keep me locked up here.  So unless there’s some mysterious handsome boy who dresses in a skintight outfit and likes to wear a mask who frequents here, I don’t think there’s going to be anything to worry about.  Well I think I’m done.  I’m going to go relax a bit.” Rubbing her eyes and flashing a fake smile at him, she hopped out of the room.  Adrien blinked rapidly after she had gone.

 “Uh.  This is awkward.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I don't have any plans to make this a romance between Adrien and his cousin. I just think it's awkward hilarity. Actually, truthfully, this story isn't going to be driven by romance. There will be relationships in it but mostly it focuses around friends and family.


	3. Jalousie et Fiertẻ

 

Adrien couldn’t stop thinking about what Bridgette had told him the night before.  She was different.  She was always pretty flirtatious; he remembered accounts around that mysterious time of puberty, a few months before she left where they would be out in public and she was constantly pointing out guys she thought were attractive – some even fifteen years older than her.  She was loud about the guys she liked and that was fine.  That was Bridgette.  But the fact that she completely abandoned school to chase after men.  Was that really her?  It was hard to say as he hadn’t seen her proper in three years.  He had no idea how her mentality was now, after three years, after everything.  Maybe this was who she was.  Or maybe she was coping.

“Nathalie,” Adrien asked carefully, and she turned her head to indicate she was listening. “Did my father say anything later last night about Bridgette and school?”

“He set her schedule.  He wants me to start all the way back towards the beginning with German, convinced she would probably have forgotten everything,” she explained.

“Everything?  He thinks she forgot the alphabet, numbers, and colors?”

“He wants to make she’s applying herself.”

“I know Bridgette and I’m pretty sure if she had a friend to support her, she would do okay in school.”

“You know Bridgette from three years ago.”  Adrien scoffed and leaned back in his seat in the limo.  Nathalie looked sidelong at him and pursed her lip.

“I know you care about her.  Your father does too.  That’s why he’s doing this,” she gently told him, although her voice didn’t sound terribly convincing.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”  The limo slowed as it approached the front of the school and Adrien pushed the door open.  Nathalie nodded to him and then the limo took off, slowing to its designated parking spot.  His father had eventually agreed to let his bodyguard stay some distance so he could still keep his independence a little, but he had to remain in sight.  Adrien adjusted his messenger bag and then greeted his friend Nino on the steps leading to the entrance.  He was leaning over a small handheld gaming device, his ball cap tipped over his glasses so his eyes weren’t visible.

“Hey man!  You never responded to any of my texts last night,” he said, and Adrien sighed, remembering.  He removed his phone from his pocket and scrolled through the several messages asking about going to the game store later after school.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I… I had a situation last night,” he put simply.  He reached up to rub his tired eyes and then gave him an apologetic grin.

“Your father again?” Nino moaned, having known all about the disputes Adrien constantly had. Adrien shrugged, agreeing a little with the comment.  He was ready to go into detail but then-

“Hey, Nino!”  yelled a girl from a few yards away.  She smiled brightly at him, her cinnamon toned skin glowing at the sight of him.  Her hair was brown and seemed to brighten with red dye the further down her hair went, til it touched her shoulders.  She could be a little nosy sometimes, always trying to get to the bottom of things and was constantly asking questions.  She was a little obsessed with Ladybug too (Although he couldn’t blame her).  Alya and Nino had been dating for not too long now so they were still pretty dazed around each other.  He chuckled and felt a slight tinge of jealousy.  He kinda wished he could have that with Ladybug too.  He looked up towards the girl who was behind Alya.  She was pretty cute, he thought, as she had many features similar to ladybug.  She had bright aquamarine eyes like her and black hair pulled into two small ponytails.  Sometimes, if the light hit it right, her hair almost shimmered blue, another trait like his favorite superheroine.  Unlike Ladybug, she seemed pretty shy, always seemed to be tripping over herself and… maybe had difficulty with speech sometimes?  It was hard to say.

 

Marinette stood beside Alya, as she always did and her stomach pushed up into her chest when she honed in at the captivating smirk of his.  He gave her a small wave and she only raised her hand.

“It’s dertiful bay… I mean!  A featibul day!  Uh… a dayful beauty!”  She heard a gentle giggle come from the clutch that hung from her shoulder.  She shot a look at pouch, hoping her eyes would shoot lasers right through the fabric to the kwami that was hidden away.

“It is a beautiful day!” Alya told her loudly. “So beautiful that it makes you feel confident and like you’ll be able to say exactly what you want to say to Adrien!”  Marinette nodded, and then her cheeks tinted with pink as she walked up closer to him.  She was ready to open her mouth when-

Bzzzz!  Adrien looked down at his phone.  There was a text from Bridgette.  Several texts, of random stuff and pictures of her setting up a bunch of stuffed animals and reenacting scenes from, what appeared to be, Shakespeare plays.  He chuckled as he flipped through them, knowing she must be incredibly bored.

“Adrikins!” pierced the high pitched and obnoxious voice of one Chloe Bourgeois.  She walked with a saunter down the steps and was always dressed fashionably with the hottest and expensive clothes available.   Her blonde ponytail nearly hit several students in the face as she hopped down the steps, and she stuck her dopey big blue eyes right into his face.  Her fingers curled around his arm. “I am so happy to see you here today!”

“I am here every morning, Chlo…” he chuckled nervously, and she leaned over his phone.

“Who is texting you?”

“Oh no one just Bri….”  He stopped midsentence, remembering that Chloe and Bridgette absolutely knew each other and also absolutely despised each other.  When they were 6 and 7, Bridgette actually accidentally-on-purpose flipped a candle onto Chloe’s complete set of dolls from some Japanese TV show when she was young.  They were all special edition too, so it had taken time to collect them.  Chloe was ready to throw her out the window that day.

“Bri?” Chloe asked.

“Briiii… anne!  Yeah, Brianne.  Just, you know, an old friend.”

“Friend?  What other female friends do you have besides me, huh?”  Adrien looked over at Alya and Marinette.

“You know I do consider Alya and Marinette my friends too, right?  And Rose, and Juleka, and Mylene, and Alix…”

 “The difference is I do not knoooowwww Brianne,” Chloe enunciated, taking the phone from Adrien.  “I need to know her to know if she’s trying to steal you away or not.”

“Trust me.  She isn’t.  Can I have my phone back?”  Chloe pouted and reluctantly held out the phone for him to take.  Alya rolled her eyes and then lowered her voice so only Marinette could hear her.

“How much you want to bet if she wasn’t obsessed with Adrien she wouldn’t have even done that?”  Marinette giggled softly.  The students who had been gathering outside the school began to file in, chattering and gossiping amongst themselves as they did. 

“Who is this Brianne?” Chloe interrogated, grabbing Adrien’s arm and glancing up at him with the most pathetic eyes and lips so pouty they might have been swollen. 

“She’s just a friend from… another country.”

“Another country?  Oh well…”  She adjusted a few strands of hair. “I probably don’t have anything to worry about then.”  Behind Chloe walked Sabrina, a redheaded girl who was basically Chloe’s only friend and something of her slave.  She was something of an outcast, and also quite possibly one of the smartest girls in class.  In comparison to Chloe, her fashion sense was completely behind, with a pleated skirt and a vest, and huge glasses to even further indicate her status next to Chloe.

Into the classroom they entered, Adrien sitting beside Nino, Marinette and Alya behind them, and Chloe and Sabrina seated across the walkway from them.  The desks were more like tables, and tiered so it would be easier for everyone to see the front of the room.  Ms. Bustier walked into the classroom after everyone had sat down, greeting them with a smile and began to write the lesson plan for the day on the board.

“Who do you think this girl is?” Marinette whispered to Alya next to her.

“Exactly as he said.  A friend from another country.”

“But did you see how nervous he got around Chloe?  What if he has a girlfriend?  What if he met her at some gala he went to with his dad?”  Marinette grabbed Alya’s shoulder apprehensively.

“Girl, until you have proof, I really don’t think you should be jumping to conclusions,” Alya told her and then smirked. “Fortunately for you, your best friend happens to be an ace investigator and an even better reporter!”

“Maybe not, I mean… if this girl is important to him.  I don’t want to seem like I’m intruding or snooping around.”  Alya glowered at her in annoyance.

“You have a detailed schedule of each day of the week for him!  You’re telling me you didn’t get that from snooping around?”

“Well, I… uh… you see I only…”

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, do you have something you would like to discuss?” Ms. Bustier sternly called out in the middle of the class.

“No, Ms. Bustier, I was simply talking to Alya.  Won’t happen again.  I’m sorry!”  Marinette quickly hid behind her pink book bag as Alya snickered at her.

“Well then.  If you would allow me, I would like to continue with _La Comédie Humaine_ , which I assume you read the first two chapters of!”  Marinette nodded, but then put her head in her hands, muttering about how she was doomed and didn’t read the book.  Adrien turned in his seat and lowered his voice hoping Ms. Bustier wouldn’t hear him.

“If you didn’t read the chapters, Marinette, I took some notes.  I would be happy to let you look them over if you want,” he offered.  Marinette’s eyes popped and doubled in size.  She let out a squeak quickly and then simply nodded.  Adrien reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a few sheets of paper and set them in front of her. “Just give them back to me tomorrow, okay?”  He flashed her his most dazzling smile so all she could respond with was her mouth agape.  She nodded again and stroked the pieces of paper as if they were made of pure gold.

 

Somewhere, across several streets of Paris, a woman in her early thirties stepped out of her townhome and turned to lock the door behind her.  Ivy crept up the house, and there was a very well kept flower garden on either side of the front door.  She leaned over the section of tulips in various color and breathed in their scent deeply. 

“Good morning!”  she greeted in a bright, bubbly voice.  Her copper hair was tied up in two buns, but then had long sections of hair coming out of the center of the buns.  She wore grey leggings under a full knee length black skirt and wore a pink tank top with a green bolero jacket resting over her shoulders.  Her eyes widened at the sight of a teenage boy walking by, holding several white flowers that looked suspiciously familiar.  She turned to the other garden where many white peonies were missing and then furrowed her brow in rage, before being stopped by a small giggling sound.  The young neighbor girl was plucking a daffodil.  When the woman saw her, she gasped and immediately dropped the flower before running back in the house.  The woman picked up the daffodil and growled lowly to herself.

“I am so tired of kids not respecting other people’s properties!  Especially my flowers!  Do I look like a Flower Shop to you?”  She clutched the daffodil angrily and scared away the passersby who even glanced at her beautiful flowers.

On some other unknown side of Paris, a large round window opened up.  It’s covering drew back, similar to the way the lens cap on a camera does.  The window was large and had a linear design that looked to form thin, minimalistic wings.  Other than the window, the room was devoid of any source of light, and a man stood in the sun’s rays. He was dressed in a suit of shades of grey and purple, and a mask was pulled over his head to allow only room for his bright blue eyes and mouth.   In his hand, he held a cane and there was a butterfly brooch just below his neck.  Hundreds of white butterflies flew around him.

“A woman upset over the vandalism of her flowers?  Yes, those who would wish to hurt beauty must be punished!” he called out enthusiastically.   A small butterfly flew towards his hand and he covered it with his other hand.  It had become black and seemed to glow, like there was a magic that was affecting it.  “Fly, my little akuma, and evilize her!”  The butterfly flew towards the center of the window, where there was a small opening.  The dark butterfly made its way over the streets of Paris and disappeared into the stem of the daffodil.  The stem and leaves turned black, with the petals changing to purple.  The woman felt a dark and heavy urgency in her and a desire to listen to what she was being told.  A thin pink butterfly silhouette appeared in her sight and she soon saw images of the man dressed in purple. “Fleur du Mal, my name is Hawkmoth.  I know you want children to leave your flowers alone and I can give you that power.  But in return, you must find Ladybug and Cat Noir and bring me their Miraculous!”

“Yes, Hawkmoth!”  The woman changed quickly.  Her mouse brown hair turned green and the buns she was wearing became red roses, and the strands of hair became green stems.  Her leggings turned into vines and leaves creeping up her legs and her skirt billowed and became a pink tulip, turned upside down.  Her tank turned black, but the straps were soon stems and held rows of flowers along the edge.  The jacket disappeared, and in its place were blue bell sleeves that looked like stems.  Her shoes became leaves formed around her feet.  Tattoos of vines and flowers formed around her eyes.  She pointed the flower she was still holding and it shot a burst of water towards a pedestrian.  The  child, about thirteen, had only bent down to pet a stray cat when the water hit her… and soon shrunk to become a tiger lily.

“Hahaha!” Fleur du Mal laughed.  “Soon there will be no more disrespectful children and there will only be flowers to beautify the world!”


	4. Fleur du Mal

“Oh, Adrieeeeennnn!”  Chloe sang cheerfully, catching up with him as the students walked down the steps after being let out for lunch.  She hung onto his arm and flirtatiously rested her arm on his shoulder. “You know, I was wondering if possibly you wanted to come to my place for lunch!  I’m sure Daddy would _love_ to-”

“Oh, uh, thanks Chlo,” he told her politely, brushing her away from him.  He gave her a politely smile and apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry but I actually kinda need to be home for lunch today.”

“Oh, well maybe tomorrow?”

“We’ll see.  Maybe invite Sabrina?” he offered to the gawky redhead, who looked hopefully at Chloe who simply scoffed.  Adrien hopped into the back of the limo that had been waiting for him.  It was only a five minute drive away from the school – less even – but his father insisted he take the limo everywhere and have his bodyguard with him.  He scrolled through the messages that Bridgette had left for him, chuckling as he read them:

**Nathalie is very nice but this is the most boring lesson ever.**

**How did you handle this for 10 years?**

**I should probably stop texting you.  She keeps glaring.**

**HAHA lol as if I’ll stop.  I need something to keep my sanity.**

**I know you’re not answering because youre a good student. Lol, you’re so boring.**

**Did you know the War of the Roses wasn’t a fight over who had the best roses?  In a way it almost sounds like the stuff that happens in Game of Thorns.**

***Thornes**

***Thrones.  Uggghhh autocorrect!**

He chuckled at her messages, remembered all too well how dull the tutoring sessions had been with Nathalie.  While she was definitely one of the smartest people he knew, it could be rather droll to listen to her go on and on about certain subjects.

            The limo stopped inside the walls of his mansion  and for once, he wasn’t too terribly dreading the idea of being at home because for once there was someone at home he could enjoy being around.  He walked through the entryway and took a right into the dining room.  Bridgette was already there, leaning over an untouched plate of brioche sandwiches.  In the seat beside her was a plate with a couple of brioche sandwiches waiting for him.   Before Bridgette was a history book, opened to a passage about the War of the Roses and open to a picture of Henry the VII.  She was focusing on scribbling over the picture with a blue permanent marker.

            “I’m not really sure you’re improving his look there,” he told her, slipping into the spot beside her.

            “Considering that he’s dead now, not really,” she told him, putting the marker down. “Nathalie thought it would be beneficial to me to look over material during lunch…  this really sucks.”

            “Are you really that far behind?” he asked, and Bridgette nodded.

            “Nathalie told that if it ever got to the point where I would be allowed to go to school, I wouldn’t start at _lycẻe_.  I would need to start in your grade.”  Adrien was about a year younger than Bridgette, meaning he was in his final year at _collẻge_ , whereas as Bridgette should be starting her first year at a _lycẻe_ school.  Adrien looked a little shocked but shrugged his shoulders.

            “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.  If you did start school you could be in my class.”

            “But Nathalie says that’s not going to happen.  Mr. Agreste doesn’t trust me given my history with boys.”

            “It was a coping mechanism, and besides you were thirteen when you left.  When I was thirteen I was confused about my own feelings for girls.”

            “Yeah, we never did talk about that girl you said you had feelings for,”  Bridgette reached to take a bite of her sandwich when  Adrien’s cheeks flushed a deep pink and he simply chuckled and turned away.  “Aw, don’t tell me wittle Adwien is embawwassed!”

            “It’s nothing, just some girl.”

            “Is she in your class?”

            “No, but I see her often when I go out.”

            “Well, I think I need to fly in and play matchmaker!”  she winked at him  and he smiled, shaking his head politely.  In silence, they sat together as they enjoyed their lunch.  There was something about just being beside each other once more that just felt so good.  It had been so long since Bridgette had really been around anyone she could truly trust with her secrets and her past, and Adrien had very few people he would allow himself to be around, and even fewer that his father would want him to hang around.  True, his father didn’t exactly think Bridgette was the best of influences, however she was still family and his mother cherished her as much as she cherished Adrien.  In fact, Bridgette was almost a sister in that way – the closest that ever truly felt like family after his mom.  And she was no longer around.

            Their peaceful dinner was suddenly interrupted by a burst of screams and shouts from down the street.  Bridgette shot up from her seat and stared at the window.  Her mouth dropped at the strange site that was happening not far outside the gates. 

            “Adrien!” she yelled as he came over to her side.  Outside the window, a woman covered in flowers and leaves, and who looked to be almost a flower herself, used vines that grew out of her legs to travel quickly down the street.  Young adults and kids were replaced by flowers every time she zapped them.  “What the heck is this?!”

            “Uh, Bridgette…”  he stammered carefully.  “Do you a few months back when I said there were some unexplained things going on in Paris?”

            “With the people turning into evil villains and superheroes coming in and saving everyone?”  
            “Yeah, that.”

            “I thought that was some elaborate hoax someone was pulling that you fell for because you’re gullible!”  Adrien shook his head.

            “No, it’s real, and I need you to find somewhere to hide right now.”  Adrien tore out of the dining room and began to speed up the stairs.  Bridgette followed suit, staying close at his heels

            “No way, you have to come with me if I’m hiding.”

            “It’s fine, I’ll be done I just… I need to get something first.”

            “You know, in America, sometimes they ran tornado drills and we weren’t supposed to-”

            “I’m not going to tell you again, Bridgette!  Go hide, right now!”   Bridgette drew her hands back and made an offended face. 

            “Man, you are so much like your mother!”  She leaned forward and kissed his check quickly. “Try not to die on the way!”  Bridgette took off and zipped down the staircase.  Adrien chuckled and slipped into his bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him.  A small black creature,  standing only a few inches tall and with a head nearly three times the size of its body, flew out of Adrien’s sleeve and hovered in front of him.  His eyes were bright green and he had pointed ears, like a cat.

            “How come you never told me you had such an attractive cousin?  Me-ow!”

            “Hey,” Adrien scolded the little sprite, his eyes narrowing at him.  “She’s off limits.  And besides she’s not even the same species.  We have more important things to do.”

            “Do you think she likes camembert?”  But Adrien didn’t answer him.  Instead he held out his hand, the one that wore the thick white ring. 

            “Plagg, claws out!” he yelled.  With those magic words, the little black creature was absorbed into the ring, turning it black and leaving a glowing green paw print on the face of it.  In a mere moment, Adrien’s eyes were soon peering out of the smalls holes of a simple black domino mask.  His hair fanned out more and gave him a more wild appearance.  His green irises expanded to cover the whites of his eyes, so his whole eye was green, and the pupils transformed to narrow slits.  His ears disappeared, and were replaced with a new pair of black cat ears protruding out from his hair.  Then his whole outfit transformed.  All the way from his neck, down his arms, chest, and legs, his clothes changed from his usual t-shirt, button up shirt, and jeans to a skin tight black outfit that defined his muscles. Below his neck with a golden bell.  His hands were gloved with the same material, but the ends of the fingers had wicked claws, and his sneakers were replaced by heavy black boots.  A silver retractable rod hung on his back, and just below that was a long strip of a tail.

            With the change into Cat Noir complete, he pushed his window open and leapt into the outside.  He extended the rod and used the end of it to push off of various roofs, making way for the latest akumatized victim.

 

            “Come on!  Don’t you want to figure out who this girl is?” Alya pressured as she walked beside Marinette when they were heading home for lunch.  Alya was clinging onto her friend desperately, pleading for a yes.

            “I do but, I also don’t want to intrude on Adrien’s privacy.  Maybe this girl is just a friend.  That’s great, but if she isn’t… well, then I just have to accept that.”

            “Do you really think Adrien would enter a long-distance relationship?”

            “I don’t know, Alya.”

            “Of course you don’t, because you can never learn anything about him romantically!  I’m telling you,  Marinette, you have to let me do some digging!  I’ll be done in a cinch!”  But Marinette had tuned out.  Her attention was caught by something down the street, way at the other end.  It looked to be some giant plant turning people – no, children – into plants. 

            “Yeah, hey you get right on that, I’m going to head on home.”

            “Great!  I’ll get started right at lunch.”

            “Yeah, you do that… make sure you stay at home though!”

            “Yeah, I got it, girl!”  The enthusiastic young journalistic strutted down the opposite direction  while Marinette took off behind a building.  She opened the clasp on the clutch she kept at her side and a red sprite flew out, it’s body speckled in a few black spots and it’s head three times the size of its body.  It seemed to have three small stubby tails.

            “Tikki, I think someone else has been akumatized!” Marinette told her.  The little red creature winked.

            “You know what you got to do!”  Marinette nodded.

            “Tikki, spots on!” The red kwami was absorbed into her earrings, with turned red and grew five black dots on them. In the next moment, Marinette’s pigtails soon had thin red ribbons holding them together, and she was wearing a black spotted red domino mask that made her bright aquamarine eyes stand out more.  Her civilian clothes were replaced by a red body hugging suit, covered in many black polka dots.  On the side of her waist appeared a red yoyo, also spotted with black.  The suit covered her entire body, her feet, and her hands.  She was almost an entirely different person now.

            She swung her yoyo around, using the string to catch onto ledges and poles.  With the yoyo as her lasso, she flung from building to building and landed right in the middle of the intersection where the newest villain was.  It was a woman, her body completely transformed, including her hair, to look as if she were a walking strand of various flowers.  She held a flower wand in her hand that she was using to transform various people – mostly children, but also adults who got in her way – into flowers.

            “Hey!” Ladybug yelled out to the villain.  Fleur du Mal turned to her and smiled before turning her wand onto her.    She shot bursts of green light, three different times.  Ladybug flipped and jumped to avoid them. “You know, this isn’t how you go green.”

            “Some people need to learn to leave people’s gardens alone!”  She flung her wand again.  Ladybug jumped to avoid it, but Fleur  predicted her next move.  She shot another beam of light right towards Ladybug’s chest.  Ladybug gasped and closed her eyes, but the light was deflected with the hum of metal.  A rod had come between them and Ladybug looked up to see Cat Noir standing on the awning with her, between her and the enemy.

            “Took you long enough!” she chastised.

            “Sorry!  I couldn’t find my invitation to the garden party!” he flashed her a smug grin.  “Did milady miss me that much?”  He pulled her in closer and hopefully puckered his lips.  She put her hand on his face and pushed him away.

            “Not so much, Kitty,” she teased, turning away from his grip.  Another shot from the wand split the two of them, so Cat Noir leapt one way. Ladybug leapt the other way.  She spun her yoyo around, creating a barrier that shot back each of the flower spells that Fleur was sending towards her.  Cat Noir flipped several times to avoid the shots, slowly climbing up a couple of business buildings.  Fleur’s attention on him now, he used his rod to fend off her blows.

            “You’re getting to be a real thorn in my side,” Cat Noir told her, before using his stick to push off the roof of the building and launch himself over her and land beside Ladybug again. 

            “The akuma has got to be in that flower in her hand,” Ladybug said.

            “So how do we get it away from her?” Cat Noir asked.

            “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

            “Ladybug!” Cat Noir asked, pushing her aside and onto the ground just as another burst of magic was fired.  It burst right next to Ladybug’s hand at the moment the two partners landed on the ground.

            “Thanks, that was close,” Ladybug said appreciatively. 

            “Any closer and you would have been pushing up daises,”  he raised one eyebrow and smirked.  Ladybug gave him an incredibly annoyed deadpan look before roughly pushing him away from her.  By now, nearly the whole street was covered in flowers.

            “Take their miraculous!” came Hawkmoth’s voice in Fleur’s head.  Fleur yelled confidently and began to pick up the pace on her vine and leaf legs.  Ladybug held onto Cat Noir and flung her yoyo up into the air so it hooked onto a ledge above them.  She swung them up onto the top of a building, high enough so they were out of Fleur’s reach.   Ladybug panted, peering over the edge.

            “Look!”  Cat Noir shouted, pointing at their enemy.  Ladybug focused even harder on her.  She was only walking around the edges of the shadows of the buildings, staying in the sunlight .  The superheroine gasped and shook Cat Noir’s shoulders excitedly.

            “Of course!  She’s avoiding the shadows, and only staying in the sun!  Plants need sun to create energy!  You deserve a kitty treat.”  Cat Noir grinned wickedly and put his arm across her shoulders. 

            “Do I get to choose?” he teased.  Ladybug giggled and pulled his arm off of her.

            “No time to stop and smell the roses, we got an akuma to catch!”

            “I think  I’m rubbing off a little on you.”  Ladybug swung her yoyo a couple of times.

            “You wish!” she laughed, and then spun the yoyo into the air.  “Lucky Charm!”   The gadget was a rosy spinning vortex in the air before a small red backpack with black dots covered all over it landed into Ladybug’s hands.

            “A backpack…?”  She questioned, and then saw a tab on the strap. “No, it’s a parachute!  I’m not really into skydiving.”  She looked up, noticing the sun high above a dead end road.  She looked down at the intersection not far down from where they were positioned.  Several large signs were also on the road. “Cat Noir, block the road!”

            “At your command as always, Bugaboo!”  He gave her a cheeky salute before flinging himself back onto the road and using his stick to break his fall.  Cat Noir held out his hand in the air, curling his fingers and menacingly brandishing his claws. “Cataclysm!”  His hand almost seemed to be electrically charged, shaking violently and glowing black.  Fleur lunged for him, but he ran down the street, touching lampposts, streetlights, signs, anything even close to the proximity of the dead end road.  Everything bent and rusted, curling up and bending in the direction of Fleur.  Fleur hissed angrily at the moment Ladybug strapped on the backpack.  She jumped off the building and pulled the cord right away.

            “Cat Noir!” she yelled, and the black cat came barreling towards the scene.  Ladybug slipped out of the straps so she was doing nothing but freefalling and relying on her partner to catch her.  As she was falling, the parachute had filled the space over the road and between the buildings, just enough to shield the sun from getting to Fleur.  Fleur bent her head and began to look very tired.  She slowly became lethargic and dropped the flower wand she had been holding. The parachute was floating down towards her.  Meanwhile, Ladybug was shouting just as she was hurling towards the ground.  She closed her eyes tightly… and then was safely snatched up into Cat Noir’s embrace.

            “Oopsy daisy!” he said as he caught her. “Little reckless, don’t you think?”

            “You’re no pansy, I knew you would catch me,” Ladybug giggled.

            “You’re really working your way into my heart with your puns, milady!” he teased, and let his nose touch her. “You know, we should really bring our _tulips_ together!”

            “Awww, sorry,” pouted Ladybug as she slapped her palm against his lips. “Looks like my hand got in the way!  Oh well!”  She jumped out of Cat Noir’s arms and stomped on the flower Fleur had dropped.  A glowing  back butterfly flew from the debris.  Ladybug used her finger to split the top of the yoyo open. “No more evil doing for you, little akuma.  Time to de-evilize!”   She flung the yoyo, catching the butterfly inside it.  The device came back and landed in her hand.  Once she opened it back up again, it floated away, pure and white once again.  “Bye bye little butterfly!” Quickly, she collected the fabric of the parachute and then tossed it into the air. “Miraculous ladybug!”  There was a surge in the air, and soon everything that had been destroyed was repaired, and everyone who had become flowers was once again human.  Fleur changed back into her original form, and looked around, incredibly confused.

            “Pound it!” Cat Noir and Ladybug said in unison, as they did their ritual of victoriously bumping fists.  Then, there was a beeping noise as a spot disappeared on Ladybug’s earrings, leaving only two remaining.

            “Whoop, I better hurry before you see me as my regular boring self,” Ladybug told the cat.

            “Oh, milady.  Remember, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

            “Whatever you say Romeo!”  She swung her yoyo and waved at him, before pulling herself up to zip on out of there.  Cat Noir’s ring began to blink as he was about to change as well. 

            “Oh no!  Bridgette!”  Using his stick, he swung on out of the street before the onlookers made their way to thank and congratulate him once more.

 


	5. Mystẻre

“Once again we’ve been saved by Ladybug and Cat Noir, this time from making Paris into a huge garden.  I have a different kind of investigative journalism to cover so this is Alya signing off!”  The livestream on Bridgette’s phone ended and she was left staring at the screen in amazement.  After Adrien told her to hide, she had run up to her room and hid in the shower.  But when Adrien didn’t come calling after her, she searched for superheroes of Paris and came across the Ladyblog some local teenager put together.  Amazingly, everything in the stream was completely real.  She couldn’t believe this whole time, there were actual superheroes in the town she was raised in.  And yet there they were, saving Paris as if it was so casual. 

            There was a shuffle outside the door and her heart seemed to leap with surprise.  Bridgette rose and went to prop open the bathroom door.  She looked around the dark room suspiciously.

            “Adrien?” she whispered.

            “Yes, Bridgette, it’s just me.”  She flung the door open farther and saw that Adrien was indeed standing there, t-shirt and jeans, and not even looking the least bit frazzled by anything.

            “Adrien!”  She pulled him into a quick hug and then showed him her phone. “Look!  There’s… there’s real superheroes!  In Paris!  Ladybug and Cat Noir!  That’s unbelievable!”

            “Yeah, well… we’re just kind of used to them now.”

            “Am I alone in thinking Cat Noir’s outfit doesn’t look entirely innocent?”  Adrien’s eyes widened and he took the phone from her, rewinding back the footage and closely observing the figure of Cat Noir.  Bridgette snickered.

            “I’m sure it’s just a skin-tight suit for better agility.  Makes it easier to move.”

            “But is the bell really necessary? If you ask me, that looks way too much like-”

            “What did your time abroad do to you?” he teased, cutting her off as a bit of pink rushed into his cheeks.

            “Not teach me to study, obviously!” Bridgette snickered.  Adrien turned to the clock on the wall and sighed. 

            “Hey, listen, I got to get back to school,”  Bridgette rolled her eyes and he smirked at her. “I know… Homeschooling gets old.  Maybe we’ll watch a movie or something tonight… _after_ you do homework.”

            “Isn’t it all homework?” Bridgette questioned, gesturing quickly with her hands. “I do the work, at home.”  He ruffled her hair playfully and she tried to bat his hand away from her.  Just as he was pulling his messenger bag back onto his shoulder, Nathalie was calling for Bridgette.  Adrien took off quickly while she flung herself face first into her bed.  The clicking of heels growing louder informed her that Nathalie had run up the stairs into her room.  The skin prickled up her spine as she felt the executive assistant standing nearby.

            “It’s time for your Biology lesson.”

            “We’re born, we live, we die.  There, biology lesson over!” She muttered into her bedspread.  A heavy weight on the bed caused her to turn her head, where there was a thick book with the word _Biologie_ scrawled across it.  She moaned and tried to turn away from it.

            “We’re going to start with the parts of a cell and what their functions are.  On the outside is the cell wall, which protects…”  The girl pushed herself up but slouched on the bed as Nathalie simply went on, instructing the various parts of the cell.  Some of it sounded vaguely familiar, such as ribosomes and vacuoles and… something sounded like ectoplasm and there was an m somewhere…   As Nathalie talked, she was scrawling notes she could barely even read.  Somehow, the words began to curl and turn, until they took a form vaguely familiar to a cat.

            “Nathalie!”  Bridgette shouted suddenly, causing the assistant to tremor slightly with surprise.  “Oh, uh… sorry.  I mean to say, maybe we should move onto current events…”

            “We’re not finished with our biology lessons, Bridgette, and Mr. Agreste-”

            “Is it really going to make much of a difference if we flip subjects for now?  I’m curious to know about… Ladybug and Cat Noir.”  Nathalie shut the book her hand and paced behind the chair thoughtfully.

            “Adrien hasn’t spoken of them?”

            “Not much, just in passing but I thought he was playing a joke.  And the US doesn’t cover much outside its own borders that doesn’t involve them.”  A sad truth she had come to know her time abroad.

            “Very well.  I don’t think it would harm much to rotate your lesson plan a little.”  Nathalie sat at the table beside Bridgette and began to discuss the various recent encounters the city of Paris had with its own superheroes.  For once, Bridgette was being captivated by every single word she was told.

 

            Panting heavily, Marinette’s legs clumsily took each step as she stumbled towards the entrance of the stairs to the school.  Her cheeks reddened as her heart picked up at the sight of the perfect blond model coming up beside her.  He grinned and she couldn’t help but giggle, turning away.

            “Late as well?” he asked her kindly.

            “I got turned into a, um… a flower,” she stammered.

            “Same.  Was a little disoriented.”  The two scurried up the stairs, Adrien taking his time to even hold open the door for her.  Marinette flashed a thank you smile to him, but seemed to feel a force push into her chest at the exhilaration from the sweet gesture.  And then the force became an actual thing – a wall.

            “Oof!” she mumbled, and then fell back towards the ground.  Adrien gasped and flew towards her.  He pulled at her elbow and pulled on her arm to help her back to her feet.

            “Uh, thanks…” she whispered, dusting the invisible dirt away from the front of her clothes.

            “Why do you always seemed to be crashing into things?” he chuckled.

            “Oh, I’m just a little clumsy, that’s all.”  She smiled a little too wide and then stared at the book Adrien was holding out for her.  It was a Fashion Design textbook, for the next class they were to take. “Oh, thanks…”

            “We’re already late.  At this point, it doesn’t matter what time we get there.  How about we just walk to class together?”  Marinette nodded and clutched the book close to her, desperately searching for words to fill the heavy silence that was growing between them.

            “So… lunch good?” she said, and then rolled her eyes as soon as she said that, mouthing angrily to herself.

            “It was okay.  Didn’t have much time to eat, really.”

            “Oh, heh, me either, really.  So that uh… friend of yours?”

            “Huh?”

            “Bri, I think you said…”

            “Oh!  Yeah, we kinda go way back.”

            “Oh.  You get to talk to her?”

            “A little,” he said, seeming to look somewhat more relaxed as he spoke, however he still rubbed the back of his blond tresses nervously.

            “You said she’s from outside of the country.”

            “Oh, yeah she’s um… she’s been in America.”

            “American?  Really?!  Is her family into fashion as well?  Is that how you met?”

            “Yeah, actually we did.”  Marinette nodded, and looked down at her feet with sadness, feeling she already know everything she needed to know.  Making a decision, she looked up to him and gave him a sweet smile.

            “I wish you both the best.  I really do.”

            “What?  Oh, no, it’s not- Oh.”  The door to the classroom was propped open and the two of them walked right into the center of the floor, in front of the teacher’s desk.  The teacher and the students were staring at them suspiciously, as they walked in together.  Adrien grimaced, before creeping over to his seat by Nino.  Marinette scurried over to Alya, who simply patted her arm proudly. 

            “Wow!” she said to her friend as their lesson started. “You walked to class with Adrien alone, huh?”

            “Oh, no, we just met at the door…”  Marinette was using her pink book bag as a shield to hide her moving mouth. “And actually, he has a girlfriend.”

            “You mean he asked you to be his girlfriend?”  Alya’s body shook and buzzed excitedly.

            “No, no…” Marinette muttered. “I asked about that, uh… Bri girl.  And he basically said they’re dating.”

            “’Basically?’  A great journalist knows you shouldn’t assume or paraphrase.  It could take stuff out of context.  What exactly did he say?”

            “He said that they go way back and she’s American.  And she’s from a Fashion Design family as well.”

            “Interesting…” Alya mumbled, hiding her phone behind her bag as well and swiping through the screen as quickly as she possibly could.

            “What are you doing?!”

            “Looking through Adrien’s friends list on Facebook.”

            “Why????” came her whine, loud enough that she drew attention from a few people in front of her. “Uh, sorry…”

            “What prominent teenager from a designer family wouldn’t have a Facebook these days?  And if she and Adrien are really good friends, why haven’t we heard of her?  Especially if she’s American?  And she’s got to be friends with him on Facebook…”

            “But if she has private settings, how will you be able to see her page?”

            “I could still find Adrien’s page when I went to friend request him,” Alya reminded her.  “I just couldn’t send him an actual one.  I had to message him to send me a request.”  Adrien’s privacy settings on his page were so high, all anyone could ever see were mutual friends they had, his cover photo, and profile picture, just like many celebrities had. “And besides, we already know what her name is.  Let’s see… no Brianne… hmm…”

            “Brianna, maybe?” Marinette suggested, while Alya shook her head. “Bre?  With an E?”

            “No… but hey, do you remember when he talked to Chloe, how he sounded nervous?”

            “Chloe makes everyone nervous.”

            “But he knows her better than anyone else in this class does.  He’s actually stood up to her.  What if her name isn’t Brianne?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Look!  Only three of his friends’ have names that start with Bri – and two of them are guys.  The only girl…”  Alya passed her phone over and Marinette scanned the page thoroughly, eyes moving up and down over the information placed in front of her.  In the profile picture was a young girl, around her age, but with skin that was absolutely flawless and waves of chestnut brown hair, caught in the wind.  She honestly didn’t expect any less than a beautiful face from someone a part of a family of fashionistas.  What she was surprised by was how filled out the girl was around the middle.  Not overweight, but heavier than she expected from someone who found their way in the same circles as the Agrestes.  Also not chic and trendy, but more bold and lethal.  She was crouching in front of the statue of liberty, shredded leggings hiding under a pair of combat boots with a white top that was not only low cut but a bit sheer and a green plaid t-shirt over her shoulders.  She wore Michael Kors sunglasses so it was hard to get a good look at her eyes, but they helped frame her bangs.

            “Wait, what?” Marinette whispered. “’Hometown, Paris France.  Current City; Manhattan, New York?  I can’t see her pictures though…”

            “That’s because her account is incredibly private.”  Ayla slid her phone away from her friend and rummaged through her bag for a notebook. “Don’t worry though, I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

            “But why would he lie?  Why wouldn’t he just say her name is Bridgette?”

            “What?!”  Came a loud whisper from in front of them.  Marinette quickly ducked behind her bag as Adrien spun around to look at them. “What did you just say?”

            “Uh… digit!  We were talking, um… about math!” Alya yelled loudly, hurrying to cover up Marinette’s mistake. 

            “And why were you discussing math when we are discussing fashion design, Alya?”  Said the teacher at the front of the room.

            “No, uh… not math but… measurements, you know!  To measure the fabric!”  Marinette nodded.

            “Just keep it down…”  Adrien looked back at them with raised eyebrows, catching Marinette’s apologetic look.

            “I’ll investigate this more after class,” Alya promised, receiving a simple nod in response.


	6. Résultats

The shifting of hands against the clock face seemed to pound while the paper and the mess of symbols rotated in front of Bridgette’s eyes.  She scribbled some nonsense in response to the question and then continued to strain as she moved down the paper.  At the end of the row, she simply sighed and passed the paper over to Nathalie before sadly pushed herself out of her chair. “Am I dismissed?”

            “Yes, Bridgette.  I will go over your test results tonight.”

            “Will I know then?”  Nathalie shook her head.

            “No.  Tomorrow is your first photoshoot with Adrien.”

            “Uggghhh more shit I don’t want to do…”

            “Please do not use that kind of language about your uncle’s work.  It is very important.”

            “If you ask me, all it’s done is shove a stick up his-”

            “That’s enough.”  Bridgette closed her mouth and rolled her eyes before shuffling away.  Nathalie watched her sadly make her way out of the dining room and then groaned sadly. “Wait.”  Bridgette stopped while the assistant came up behind her and clapped her hand on her shoulder. “Listen.  I know things have been hard.  I was a teenager once too.”  
            “You’re really going to start this?  How can you even compare-?”

            “I’m not.  Just listen.  I goofed off once in a while.  I got distracted by my own hormones at times.  And that was hard enough.  But I can’t even imagine what things are like for you.”  Bridgette turned to look at her. “After what happened with your parents, having to adjust to culture shock, and then reverse culture shock… it’s no wonder you have trouble with your grades.  In addition you have the stress of trying to have a normal life under the empire of your family – and you want to try and keep it private.  All I’m saying is… I don’t blame you and it doesn’t surprise me you’re struggling.”

            “Thanks,” Bridgette mumbled.  Her heart softened a little at the grin she was given.

            “I need to take these results to Mr. Agreste.  But… maybe it would do you some good to have a movie night or something with Adrien?  I don’t think you’ve really been able to have some good quality time with him since you arrived.”  Bridgette nodded and walked away in a less angry manner this time.  Nathalie looked down at the paper and made a small sad noise before she turned the opposite direction out the door and across the entry way to Mr. Agreste’s office. 

            He almost appeared to spin around in the chair, classic evil villain style, when he stared up at his assistant, his face devoid of all emotion.

            “Well?” he asked as he took the papers from her. “How did she do?”

            “Not well… I can’t tell if she is genuinely struggling to get this or if she’s just trying to a wise acre.”  Mr. Agreste angrily huffed at each sheet, becoming even redder in the face as he went along.  In French Literature, she rated the attractiveness of the male characters according to their description and did her essay to prove how badly she believed certain characters wanted to get each other behind closed doors.  In math, she seemed to try and get some of the equations right, but then she started coming up with her own answers and began to use signs of the zodiac in the equations.  Mr. Agreste shook his head, as he read through her translating German and then translated French into German, incorrectly of course. Her answers in Biology where more or less correct but she started to write like a kindergartener after a while.  For her history class, on her report on Marie Antoinette, all she could talk about what how much she loved cake.

            “She got 90 percent on Geography though,” Nathalie told him as she handed over the test she had taken just a couple of days ago.

            “Hmm.  So we start her on a lower grade curriculum,” Mr. Agreste said, pushing the papers back over to her.  Nathalie shook her head confidently.

            “That’s just it, Mr. Agreste.  I don’t think it’s that at all.  I think she is definitely where she needs to be.”

            “But her grades don’t show that.”

            “Look at her essay in Literature.  While she didn’t follow the prompt of the essay, she had an understanding at least of some of the tools used in figurative language.  In math, she seemed like she actually tried to come up with some of the answers, but when things got difficult, she tried to remedy it with other solutions.  Then she gave it completely and tried to at least make it look like she put in the work.  In German, the grammar usage and sentence structure is correct, but the words are completely wrong.

            “So, she knows German?”

            “I think she does, I just don’t think she wanted to translate what I gave to her and decided instead to come up with her own sentences.  And for Biology, she seemed to have a little understanding; however, maybe she got bored?  And in her report, she does references accurate parts of Marie Antoinette’s life despite her ramblings on cake.”

            “So why did she do so well on Geography?”

            “She traveled the US.  Maybe it’s an interest to her.”  Mr. Agreste folded his hands and his bright eyes peered through his spectacles towards the wall, thinking deeply.  He peered around the room, searching for answers while Nathalie waited anxiously. 

            “Sir?” she asked when he had taken a while to answer her.  He didn’t look up. “I’m no psychologist, but I do believe she’s simply bored, and maybe a little stressed.  Maybe she’s even lonely.”  Another minute went by without Mr. Agreste speaking. “School helped Adrien.  If you’ll permit me to say so, I think we went about this all wrong, and maybe Bridgette would do better in a school setting.”  Mr. Agreste’s eyes shot back up at her and he rose.  Nathalie took two steps back in apprehension to his intimidating stature. “If you will permit her to.  With conditions of course.”

            “Conditions…” he mulled.

            “Adrien said it before, I believe.  If she’s with Adrien at all times, not only will she have a friend and someone who can keep an eye on her and hold her accountable, but Adrien’s bodyguard can also keep an eye on both of them.”  He muttered to himself.

            “There’s still the issue with boys.”

            “Set limits for that too.  And maybe reward her with loosening certain restrictions if she follows your conditions.”

            “Hmmm… Perhaps you’re right, Nathalie.  I will speak to them both at the photoshoot tomorrow.”

 

            The black clad superhero launched himself through the window leading into the large space of bathroom tiling inside his own bedroom.  Cat Noir had just completely a mission with Ladybug in helping the police chase down high speed cruiser who had stolen and hotwired a vehicle.  He had to admit, sometimes it was a little nice to get back to regular crime fighting and not deal with Hawkmoth and his butterflies… but at the same it could also be distressing because it was reminder that some people in this world were simply evil, and no evil butterfly could be as easily ripped away from them and destroyed. 

            “Adrien?” came Bridgette small voice from outside the bedroom.  Cat Noir gasped and ducked back into the bathroom.  Bridgette had been here two weeks, and it was getting really hard to navigate his secret identity around her – especially since he was supposed to be back her a half hour ago for their movie night.

            “Just a second!  I’m changing, I’ll be right out!” 

            “Have you been in this shower this whole time?”

            “I was just lost in thought!”  The last light on his ring blinked and his costume practically evaporated.  Once again, he was back in his street clothes – t-shirt, open button up, jeans, well-groomed blonde hair, and his ring was white once again.  Plagg collapsed to the floor and dramatically let his tongue roll out of his mouth. 

            “Oh I guess that happens…” Bridgette muttered while Adrien scooped up his weary kwami. 

            “What, no smart remark?” he yelled as he walked from the bathroom into his bedroom, where his cousin’s voice was louder.  “No ‘Oh, I bet you were, lost in thought over that mysterious girl you like?’ Or ‘Lost in thought of dirty images?’”

            “Not been a terribly good night.  Pretty sure your father completely hates me now.”

            “Camembert… Need… cheese…”  muttered Plagg while he dragged himself out of the bathroom.  Adrien picked him up and tucked him into his sleeve before opened the door up.  Bridgette’s usual bright green eyes were now rimmed in red and swollen along the edges.

            “Have you… been crying?”  Adrien’s arm flung around her and led her into the room, where he guided her towards the bed and motioned for her to sit. 

            “I just don’t think I did terribly well on my tests and I’m sure Gabriel is going to send me to some prestigious girls’ school in London.”

            “Hold it right there.  What do you want to eat?”  Adrien had his phone out and ready to dial the kitchen.  “Junk food?  Ice cream?  Chocolate?”

            “Well, what’s a movie without popcorn, right?” she chuckled a little.

            “So you want butter drizzled all-”  Bridgette playfully glared at him. “Nope, I know you.  Regular popcorn is plain and boring.  You want salty and sticky kettle corn.”

            “You know me well.”  Adrien punched in the number and requested for several snack items – the popcorn, sparkling cherry juice, cookies, brownies, cheese crisps, and soft pretzels loaded with cheese.  A wedge of camembert was also requested for Plagg as well.

            “Now, I couldn’t swing getting you _Magic Mike_ …”

            “Channing Tatum is overrated,” she mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn.

            “You’re going to have to settle for _Silver Linings Playbook_.”

            “Did you choose that because of J-Law, or because you knew I would love a movie where everyone thinks the sufferer of a mental disorder is insane and out of control?”

            “You are not insane and out of control…” he assured her.

            “So, J-Law?”

            “J-Law.”  Adrien walked over to large screen and fiddled with it til it was set properly, while at the same time shaking Plagg out of his sleeve and handing over the cheese to him.  The little fairy looked at the cheese adoringly, before hurrying into the bathroom out of sight.  Then, the young man ran over to his cousin and joined her in divulging some of the snacks while the movie began.

            “I think I’m stupid,” Bridgette pouted.

            “You are not stupid.  You are just having difficulty adjusting.”

            “I had three years.”

            “Yeah, well in retrospect, maybe shipping you off to America immediately after you… well, you know… everything,” Adrien muttered, carefully faltering off his sentence when she looked over at him. “I’m just saying, perhaps it wasn’t the greatest of ideas.  Maybe you should have stayed home with your family.”

            “Nothing can be done about it now,” Bridgette mumbled, rolling over. “We have a photoshoot together tomorrow.”

            “That will be fun?  Won’t it?”  Adrien wanted to know.  Bridgette only shrugged.

            “All it means is that soon all of Paris will know I’m back.”

            “You know my father couldn’t have promised that.”

            “Maybe not, but he’s certainly not making any sort of efforts to try and keep me out of the media’s eye as much as possible.”  Adrien sighed and went to throw his arm around her, in a comforting notion.  Just as he patted her shoulder, he threw her a mischievous grin.  Bridgette’s heart flipped apprehensively.  She glared at him suspiciously, knowing all too well that look meant he was about to tease her, and she wasn’t going to be terribly happy about it.   He grabbed her under the arm and then flipped her over onto the floor as she squealed.

            “Adrien!  What the f-”

            “What, you’re not going to fight back?”  Adrien held up his fists and comically switched his stance back and forth.  It was supposed to look intimidating but it really just looked ridiculous as he bounced in his preparation mode. 

            “We’re not eight years old anymore.”

            “Exactly, meaning I don’t have to go easy on you.”

            “Easy?!” Bridgette scoffed from where she was still laying on the floor. “If I recall you were the one who would run off crying.”

            “That’s because you used your nails!”  Bridgette tried to rise but Adrien only grabbed her shoulders and pinned her against the ground.

            “Seriously, Adrien, this is ridiculous, we’re teenagers, I have boobs for crying out loud!”

            “And that effects your fighting ability?”

            “No, I’m just saying it’s a little easier to grab certain parts.  I mean, usually I wouldn’t mind, but you’re my cousin and that’s disgusting…”

            “Yeah well I’ve always had certain parts and it’s never been a problem so unless you’re trying to – oof!”  Bridgette swung her leg around so it tripped Adrien up and he landed on his back.    Bridgette stood up and leaned over him with a smirk.

            “You need to brush up on your fighting abilities,” she teased.  Adrien’s eyes popped at her comment.

            “All you did was trip me!”

            “But I caught you off guard.  You shouldn’t let yourself be caught off guard!”   Bridgette walked the few feet over to his desk and moved the mouse around to wake it up.  The screen popped up, showing the background of Mrs. Agreste.  Bridgette breathed deeply as she looked at the picture of her beloved aunt who was MIA, before clicking around a few times and then click clacking at the keyboard.  “Now, this is who you need to be learning to fight from!”  Adrien sat up and walked over to his desk where his cousin had pulled up video footage of Cat Noir flipping and flinging himself across rooftops, using his stick as leverage while he blocked and delivered various blows against a montage of enemies. 

            “Oh, uh, Cat Noir, huh?  Yeah he’s a… a pretty good fighter,” he muttered nervously.

            “And he looks good doing it!  Me-ow!”  Adrien looked at her sideways with wide eyes.

            “He’s not really that good-looking.”

            “Oh, I don’t expect you to understand, you don’t appreciate the fine silhouette of a muscular masked man in spandex… unf.”  Bridgette bit her lip and Adrien laughed nervously as quiet as he possibly could, rubbing the back of his neck. 

            “No, no I really don’t.  And maybe you shouldn’t either.”

            “Oh it’s just an admiration from afar.  It’s not like I expect anything to happen.”

            “Good!  I mean… yeah, you don’t want to get involved with a superhero, too much danger.”

            “Pfft… I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what I did at boarding school…”  Bridgette walked back over to Adrien’s bed.  He shrugged, deciding to drop the matter, and then took the spot beside his cousin, as they decided to attempt to watch the movie.  They exchanged a few laughs and Bridgette could not stop obsessing over the “perfectly smooth and chiseled chin” and “eyes the color of a gentle stream on a cloudless day” of Bradley Cooper.  Soon, all previous concerns were forgotten, and they were talking and giggling just like things were only four years ago.  It was almost as if nothing had changed.  Almost.

 


	7. Couture

There was something clawing at her arm.  Some evil entity was twisting their appendages around her arm and attempting to rip her arm out of its socket.  Bridgette pushed at it, trying as hard as she could to break away from the threatening force.  Beneath her chest came the anxious sound of a hollow thump as her heart was trying to loosen away from the fear.  Soon, her heart plunged into her throat and gulps of air were becoming more and more difficult to come by.  It didn’t take long before the edges of her eyes spilled over with the liquid evidence of her anxiety. When she dared to take a look, a black creature, composed of nothing more than wispy smoke, stared her down with a wide Cheshire smile, a sick fusion of delight and sadism.  Bridgette shouted, but found her voice was lost.  The strange thing was that the more she fought against it, the tighter the grip.   _No_ , she wanted to cry out. _Not again, please.  I can’t go through this again._

            Then finally, she heard her voice unleash a screech so terrifying it cut the air and muted all other noises.    The black creature evanesced into the room and Bridgette looked to see the familiar surroundings of her bedroom in the Agreste house.  There was still something clutching her arm, but her heart calmed at the sight of human fingers holding onto her, fingers that belonged to her beloved cousin.

            “Are the nightmares attacking again?” he tenderly asked her as her as he took the spot on her bed.  Bridgette pulled her duvet closer to her chest.

            “Do they ever stop?” she snorted sadly, and then yawned.

            “You should probably get up before father sends Nathalie up here.”

            “Oh crap!” She moaned, kicking the mattress defiantly. “I have to fulfill that shitastic obligation.”

            “Yeah, I don’t like it either.  Fortunately, this one may actually be fairly enjoyable.  We’re shooting promotional photos for that game that’s due out next year, _Realm of Dusk._ ”

            “Do I get to dress up as a wanton wench?  That’s my dream, to be a wanton wench.”  Adrien rolled his eyes at his comment and then chuckled before standing up.

            “I’ll leave you to get dressed.  And honestly, I wouldn’t bother with the make-up today.  They’re only going to strip it off to put some more on.  I’ll make sure to save you some breakfast.”  Once Adrien had shut the door, Bridgette jumped out of her bed and found a simple outfit of a tight-fitting band shirt and yoga pants.   With only a few minutes spent in the bathroom that morning, she skipped down the steps to the sound of Nathalie calling for her.  Adrien passed over a couple of breakfast pastries to her before the two of them piled into the limo and wound their way around the Eiffel Tower towards _Agreste studio de mode_.  Only once had Bridgette been allowed inside and that was a day when her parents had been especially busy and needed Adrien’s parents to watch her.  She ended spilling paint on a lot of clothes and got in a ton of trouble for it and wasn’t allowed back in. 

            The part of the studio they were to be in, the main part, was the shooting room.  There was already a camera in place and a couple of umbrella lights on either side of the tripod, ready for the shoot.  Most of the room was painted white, for lighting, and on the other end of the room, opposite the camera, was a large backdrop.  Currently it was white, but Bridgette knew there were several backdrops of various colors and scenes under that one.  There was also a bright green one for CGI effects.  On the opposite end was a snack table, filled with fruit, vegetables, small hors d’oeuvres, as well as some cookies and other confectionaries.  Feeling drained from the morning’s violent dream, Bridgette slipped a vanilla cupcake off the table and hurriedly tried to down it quick as possible.

            “Running a little late Adrien,” said the photographer.

            “I know, I know, sorry… slept in.”  Bridgette gave him a strange look, knowing perfectly well it was her who had slept in and not him.  He only shrugged at her.

            “Well, we have to make up for lost time now so now no dilly-dallying, hurry to make up!” He clapped quickly, as if that would encourage them to work faster.  Having no idea where to go, she simply followed behind him into a long room.  Along one wall stretched a large mirror, nestled between a row of bright lights on top, and a counter filled with various containers of different cosmetics.  Reflecting in the mirror were a few padded chairs and racks of different articles of clothing.  Bridgette’s stomach twisted as she thought about how she was basically going to be someone’s full grown doll.  Adrien, however, jumped into the first chair with no hesitation and began to talk with the woman who began smother his face with a thick brush.  They seemed familiar with each other.  Bridgette swallowed hard.  They may have been from the same family, but their worlds were still incredibly different.

            Slowly, she took the spot next to Adrien and squeezed her eyes shut as her own face was being violated by the scratchy bristles of the make-up brush.  She could taste the bitter mineral flavor of the powder as it snuck into the crevice of her mouth and coughed a couple of times.     

            “You okay over there?” Adrien asked her.

            “Fine, just… don’t like swallowing brushes.”

            “I would think you would be used to this.  You do your make-up every day.”

            “Yeah, myself, when I know what I am going to do.  I’m not used to someone else doing it.”

            “I’m the exact opposite,” he chuckled. “Applying make-up myself would be strange.”

            “I think you should try it sometime.  Go to school all dolled up.”

            “That might make things worse.  Jagged Stone wears so much eye make-up and people really seem to be attracted to that.”

            “He’s still around… ahhh that’s cold!” Bridgette shouted as a cream was applied to her face.

            “She means sorry, Analise,” Adrian said.  The plump redhead standing before Bridgette simply glared before continuing with a make-up sponge. “And what do you mean by that?”

            “Oh, I guess Jagged Stone just isn’t that popular in America.  It’s all pop, techno, and dance right now.  At least where I was.”

            “Yeah, he’s actually bigger than he ever has been.”

            “Still have that vulture?”

            “Crocodile now.”

            “Oh.”

            “But you know, a good friend of mine from school designed his new album cover.”

            “Would you _please_ watch where you’re sticking that?  Who the hell ever taught you to apply eyeshadow?!” Bridgette shouted.

            “Miss Lemieux is moving too much!” said the make-up artist.

            “What exactly is this…”  She snatched the small case from her hand and looked at the palette of sparkly white powder, soft lavender, and a gentle blue color.”

            “’Fresh Fallen Snow’? ‘Gentle Dusk’ ‘Calm Waters’?  What the hell, are you making me an Easter egg?”

            “It’s just the costume, Bri,” Adrien said patiently with closed eyes.  His own artist was shading some darker shadow over his eyes.

            “But I swore I was supposed to be the face of the Queen, whom as I understand, is leading her kingdom into battle.”

            “Yes, you are a queen and must look the part,” Analise told her calmly,  smearing some pink substance onto her cheeks.

            “I get that.  Regal and all.  This would be fine for her coronation day or at court, but she’s not caring about her looks going into battle.  She is _fighting_. She isn’t trying to look like Pixie Perfect Princess.  If anything, I should be wearing make-up that’s more natural.”

            “This, coming from the girl who is often asked who she picked a fight with to get that much black, blue, and purple around her eyes?”

            “When it comes to _accuracy_ , I care.” Bridgette scoffed as a brown kohl pencil was being drawn around her eyes.

            “You didn’t even want to do this photoshoot.”

            “But if I have to do it, I’m going to do it right and this doesn’t make sense.”

            “Wait til it’s finished,” said Analise a little sharply as she did the final blending on Bridgette’s face.  She breathed a sigh of relief, but then the artist surprised her by suddenly tugging on her hair with the most wicked looking comb she had ever seen.

            “Excuse me?” Bridgette hissed at her.

            “Your hair needs to be done now.  Close your eyes, please.” 

            “What-?”  But Bridgette shut her eyes immediately when her attacker picked up a huge bottle of hairspray and drowned her hair in its long spray.  “Ow!  OW!”

            “My goodness you have split ends!  Such a shame because you have such beautiful long locks.  Nice shade of brown too.”

            “Don’t worry, you’ll match in a minute because I’m going to split your end!”

            “Bridgette!” Adrien shouted at her forcefully.   She turned her head as much as Analise would allow and rolled her eyes at her cousin, who was in the process of his hair getting teased just a little.  Her head bobbed back and forth as it was violently brushed and then pulled back using hair ties and bobby pins.  She grimaced every time she felt the prick of the small hair device.  In a good twenty minutes, Analise had pulled her dark chestnut waves loosely behind her ears, creating the illusion that her hair was much longer as it fell in even ripples down her back.  A small strand of hair was braided in the front and draped over her shoulder.  Bridgette  shook her head and had the uneasy feeling of her hair being stiff.

            “Look at how much the green in your eyes glistens when you can’t see those dark circles under your eyes!” Analise said.  Bridgette gave her a side eye look.  Adrien swung his foot so he delivered a harsh kick towards her.  She only rolled her eyes at him.

            “Okay I think we’ve done as much as we can…” came the sweet pardon of Bridgette’s release.  Sighing happily, she slipped out of the chair and made her way towards the door.  Unfortunately, her joy was short lived when Analise grasped her shoulder and turned around.  “Wait, wait, we need to get you to costume.”  Something buzzed in Bridgette’s head, a tightening sense of dread, as she thought about the odd costume possibilities they were going to throw her in.  She looked over to Adrien’s chair and saw he was no longer in it.  He was now over by the racks of clothes by the wall with his own assistant as she pulled out articles of clothing and what appeared to be, giant pieces of metal.

            “Uh, what?” Bridgette whispered as she was led over to where he was.  Analise removed a large garment bag from the back of the rack and pulled out a shoebox and then a larger cardboard box from under the row of the clothes.  Bridgette stumbled under the weight of what she had been given.

            “Put these on.  You have a dressing room just around the corner.  I will be in in a moment to help you with anything you require additional assistance.”  With eyes wide in horror, Bridgette hobbled over to the next room and shut the door behind her.  It was a simple room, with a mirror and a vanity before it, and a couple of armchairs.  In the corner was a floor length mirror, and the wall was covered with various magazine covers. However, at that moment, Bridgette was staring at the fabric she had pulled over the bag, nearly gagging at its atrocious form.  Hoping there was some sort of redemption to be offered, she opened the boxes.  All that she could do at the sight was slap her face and rub her eyes as she tried to wipe the images from her mind.  She had known about sexism in video games, and the lack of representation of positive examples of females, but now… now she was being asked to contribute to it.  All dolled up, with hair to match, was already outside her comfort zone.  But Bridgette could not ever feel comfortable dressing as something which was reduced to nothing but a mere sex symbol.  She pushed the boxes over so their contents fell to the floor before marching out the door to the few people standing there, waiting.

            “Find another model.  I refuse.”  



	9. Monsieur Couture

The monitor in the corner of the entry room showed the image of Adrien’s schoolmate, Marinette, fidgeting as she pressed the button on the doorbell.  She jumped at the sharp chirp and then paced apprehensively.  Adrien chuckled, abandoning the shouting match his cousin and the Italian designer were having.

            “The sex sells.  Make pretty, make money!” he argued.

            “It sells for guys!  We are trying to appeal to all demographics here, and the game is not going to appeal to women if the queen is a weakling damsel in distress made up of nothing but boobs, butt, and legs!” screamed Bridgette.

            “Mademoiselle Lemieux be happy.  I make model.  Many designer say no.  Lemieux not tiny.”

            “Excuse me?!” Bridgette screeched.

            “No, no.   Lemieux pretty model.  Not tiny model,” Soren assured. “Happy with model.  Make big girl sexy.  No better deal.”

            “Wait, so…” Bridgette breathed carefully.  “You’re saying you think I should be okay with the outfit because I normally wouldn’t get this since I weigh much more than the standard model, and since you’re representing me as a sexier individual, I should take it as a positive representation of women?”

            “ _Si_.”

            “Are you kidding me?”  Nathalie sensed danger and tossed her phone onto a nearby table.  She held Bridgette into a half-nelson, preventing her arms from potentially lunging for his throat.  Bridgette flailed, desperate to get to him.  Nathalie struggled against her, whispering to her to calm down.

            “Bridgette, this isn’t how you solve this.”

            “Oh the hell it isn’t!  It doesn’t matter how much I weigh!  You’re still making the Queen out to be a less than accurate representation of her position, and manipulating consumers into thinking the only place women have in video games is as sex objects!”

            As they argued, Adrien opened up the door in the entry way, their shouts could still be heard as a muffled din.  He winced in embarrassment as he greeted Marinette, who was standing in front of him with a wide, nervous, smile.   She quickly straightened her black ponytails on either side of her head.  She patted down her black jacket, and then held her head high, adopting a casual stance.  Marinette quickly frowned, then looked past Adrien.  He rubbed his blonde locks nervously before sighing.  He gestured to her to follow him and the two of them walked down the hall.  He motioned for her to come with him into a smaller room off to the side, which was much smaller than the other ones.  It had a long table surrounded by several wheeled chairs.  There was a cleaned whiteboard at the front of the room, with an easel off to the side.  A counter with a coffee machine completed the picture of a meeting room.  Marinette’s face brightened in ruby when Adrien shut the door behind them.  The room seemed to echo the loud thudding she was experiencing beneath her chest.  He took a few steps closer.  Marinette breathed and then forced down a rough swallow.

            “Um, uh…” she muttered quietly.

            “Can I trust you with something?” he whispered.

            “Yes…” she breathed in dazed stance.

            “I believe you’re the perfect designer for this, but… you need to know a few things about the model before you begin to work.”

            “Oh, um… okay?” Marinette questioned with something of disappointment.  Adrien looked off to the side for something courageous, and there was a tightening in his stomach.  He felt he was possibly betraying some secret, but Bridgette was aware sooner or later her identity would be found out.  They were just hoping to control when and how fast it would be found out.  Besides that, something about her just felt trustworthy, like he had already told her so many secrets and shared so much time with her than he already had. 

            “So, do you, um… remember my friend I talked about at school?”

            “The one from America?”

            “Yeah, that one… well, she’s the model.”

            “Uhh… oh…” Marinette dropped her shoulders.  Her eyes felt to the floor and lost their excitable glisten. “Well, I don’t understand why that’s a problem…”

            “Well, she’s more than a friend…”

            “Yeah, I know, you-”

            “She’s my cousin.”  Marinette’s words caught in her throat before flowering and exploding with relief and delight.  Inside her, she could feel herself dancing and prancing through a wide meadow with a various color of flowers, the sun invigorating her with joy.  Like an idiot, she was grinning wide.  A seemingly large weight was as if it had been raised off her back.  Not his girlfriend?  Just a family member? 

            “Oh!” Marinette exclaimed, trying hard to hide her exuberance. “I thought-”

            “And it’s not your fault for thinking that,” Adrien assured her kindly. “I purposely didn’t want people to know about her.”

            “Uh?”

            “Well, see…” Adrien paused, as he considered what he should tell her. “Her name is Bridgette.  We can’t hide her identity forever, but we at least would like to control how it comes out that she’s back, and the pace.  She… she disappeared three years ago.  She was working through some very difficult things and my dad thought some distance was best.  So he sent her to school in America.  Well, circumstances have allowed her to come back.  Except there’s so much about her past and… things that happened that… we don’t want the media digging things up again and making her adjustments that much harder.  We would like to slowly come out with news of her return.  However, there’s… some things she was required to do in order to stay with us.”

            “Like modeling,” Marinette guessed confidently.  Adrien nodded.

            “Which is why I need you to promise a couple of things.  I need you to promise that you’ll keep quiet about all of this… I don’t even want Alya to know about this.”  Marinette was ready to protest. “At least not right now.  I know she’s pretty, uh….”

            “Nosy,” Marinette giggled. “It’s okay.”  Adrien smiled, making her heart flutter again.

            “Well, I mean, yeah… I don’t want a word said… especially Chloe.  Bridgette and her…. They have… a past.”

            “I’m pretty sure everyone does.”

            “No, they… they were forced to be playmates and they hated each other.  Still do.  And they are both very… headstrong.  And Bridgette is due to be in our class very soon.”

            “Oh dear…”

            “Exactly.  Now, I’m hoping if we simply address her as Bri she won’t catch on.  Bridgette looks quite a bit different since she last saw her and her accent has gone very flat.”

            “But she’ll eventually know.”

            “Eventually, but hopefully after the media already knows so she won’t go blabbing about it to everyone.”  Marinette nodded.

            “I understand,” she said and let out a small gasp when Adrien leaned forward and took her in a quick hug.   Marinette took a peek into her purse while his arms were around her, to see the beady eyes of her fairy looking back at her, sparkling with amusement.

            “Thank you very much,” he said when he released her.  Marinette swayed in shock, but was able to stable herself.  She caught his bright emeralds again and looked away.  Her heart continued to skip when he took her hand and pulled her down the hallway.  His grip was strong, but there was a tenderness to him.  He was just too perfect for words.   Marinette was surprised she had ever learned how to control her speech around him.  To distract herself, she peered into a few of the rooms as they went along, before they entered the main studio.  It was there that the words became clearer about what was being shouted.  Nathalie was still holding Bridgette back, while the designer was shouting in Italian, and whatever it was didn’t sound terribly polite.  Marinette looked to Adrien with a perplexed gaze.  He sheepishly chuckled and then pointed to each person as he explained how Bridgette was offended by Soren’s creation because of how demeaning it was to women, creating the character of the Queen into a piece of eye candy and was completely impractical for fighting.  Marinette nodded in thought as Adrien then began to explain Soren’s point of view of her as a powerful, desirable being, especially since they were trying to use a woman of average weight in order to reach the larger demographic of younger women.

            “So… powerful, sultry, tough, feminine, warrior, sexy, daring, queenly, fighter, and traditional…” the aspiring designer said to herself.  “I think I can do something with that.”

            Bridgette stopped fighting for a minute to look at the newcomer.  She blinked, analyzing the girl.  Slowly she crept towards her.  Marinette waved shyly.  Bridgette furrowed her brow.

            “Is this her?” she asked Adrien.

            “Yes.  Marinette, Bridgette,” he introduced simply.

            “It’s nice to meet you,” Marinette giggled brightly.

            “She. Is. A _dorable_!” Bridgette squealed happily, rounding her and gripping Adrien’s shoulders. “Is this her?  She is so cute; honestly I would even date her.  She looks like she’s a good kisser.  Hm, maybe I should try and let you know.”

            “Uhhh…” Adrien muttering, his ears glowing with a flush of pink.  Marinette laughed loudly and turned away her head so it wasn’t noticeable that she was blushing.

            “Wait, uh… you’re not…”  Bridgette examined their bashfulness to each other, reading they clearly weren’t a couple.  “Oh, sorry.”

            “Um… Bridgette, uh… so.  This dress…” Marinette began.  She took a quick walk around her to examine the threads that barely clothed her body.  “Yeeeaaahhhh.  This definitely isn’t the message we want to be receiving from the _Realm_ games.  And doesn’t line up with the practices of an era parallel to the middle ages.”  Marinette muttered to herself and walked around the young model again.

            “She look like Daenerys!” muttered Soren, the Italian.  “The games of thrones is hot now!”

            “Um… true, I can see the similarities between this and Daenerys,” Marinette kindly said, but looking a little sheepish as she let him down as kindly as she could. “The thing is, _Realm_ may be fantasy, but it isn’t _Game of Thrones_.  The queen in this game comes from a culture completely different from Daenerys and has an entirely different personality.”

            “But is tough.  Is beautiful. Is popular.”

            “For different reasons, if you would pardon me,” Marinette politely told him.  “Sir, if you would excuse me but I watch _Game of Thrones_ and I play _Realm_.  I am also of the female demographic who does both, as well as a designer.  I feel my input could be valuable to you.”  Adrien walked up beside her and tapped her back encouragingly.  Marinette pulled her lips into a taut grin, embarrassment and glee both co-mingling with the butterflies she was feeling. The green sharpness to his eyes looked right at her with pride And Marinette found herself silently moving her feet with apprehension.  It was warm under where his hand rested and the flow of her energy had been diverted to flow from that source.  Firecrackers were streaming through her limbs; remaining still and professional was proving to be impossible. 

            “And as a male who enjoys gaming and _Game of Thrones_ , I also want to add that you can make your heroine attractive without sacrificing her role as a leader both in the kingdom and on the battlefield,” Adrien put in.  Marinette turned to him, covering her mouth with her hand to prevent the giggle that was attempting to escape her lips.

            “Um, so, uh…” Marinette cleared her voice when the high-pitched tone in her throat surprised her.  “I have some ideas that I, um… would like to sketch?”  She sounded a little uneasy when she presented herself, but Bridgette’s eyes were locked on her and she leaned in with interest. “Maybe you could put in your own input?”

            “I would love to.  Whatcha got?”  Marinette gestured for them to follow her towards the table against the wall and threw her pink messenger bag on top of it.  She shoved her hand inside and searched around until she slid out a huge binder, bulging with empty paper and various designs.  Softly, she discussed her ideas with them while she used a pencil to sketch some simple ideas, taking in the input of those around her to expand on them.  The Italian designer, however, was not among them.

 

            A shade on a circular window widened, on a building in an undisclosed location in Paris.  Standing before the light that streamed in from the daylight of the city was Hawkmoth, the villain who preyed on the misery of Parisians.  As usual, a swarm of white butterflies swirled around him.  He peered down into the city from his large menacing eyes, staring out from his purplish grey mask. 

            “Yes, let that jealousy fester!   After all, you are the professional!  Your ideas should be hear, not that young girl’s.  You are the superior!”  A small butterfly drifted towards the villain, who grasped in gently in his enclosed fist.  With a simple bit of magic, the butterfly glistened black before flying out of the small opening in the window. “Fly my akuma and evilize him!”  The butterfly soared over various buildings before finding where its victim was currently.  It found an opening in the window before colliding into the small needle Soren was issuing to stitch together some seemingly random pieces of cloth onto a mannequin.  The man stood up immediately, a pink image of wings contouring his eyes.

            “Monsieur Couture, I am Hawkmoth and I am here to make sure you get the recognition you deserve, instead of that amateur designer.  But first, you must do something for me.  You must get Ladybug and Cat Noir’s miraculous!”

            “ _Si_ _Signor_ Hawkmoth!”  From his feet the designer was transformed.  His suit hung closer to his body so it took on a vinyl look.  It was black, with a smattering of white geometric shapes along the collar to represent a white shirt and tie.  From his neck billowed out a cape, but it was one of the fashionable ones that was nearly a poncho, with openings along the side for one to stick their arms through.  A flat wide brimmed hat sat upon his head.  The needle in his hand grew, and it lengthened substantially, until it was the size of a standard cane.  Soren analyzed the sharp point of the needle amusedly before chuckling, and then heading back towards the other room.


	10. Crimes de Mode

“I don’t really think she should have that long of a skirt to be honest,” Adrien said to the two girls as they hashed out some details of the costume for Bridgette. “I just feel it would be easier to get it caught on something.  Maybe make it shorter.”

            “But she can’t go around wearing a mini-skirt!” Bridgette hollered.  “I mean, I totally would, but the time period of this-”

            “We’ll give her some pants underneath!” Marinette said quickly.  She moved her hand, cradling a pencil, in short swift strokes on the page in front of her.  The sketch took the shape of a pair of pants while the other two looked on.

            “Are you going to be able to sew this in time?” Adrien asked apprehensively.

            “Well… I’m hoping your dad is willing to work with me on it, because it won’t be ready today…”

            “Hold on a second, maybe I can get a hold of him right now…”  Adrien walked over to where his civilian clothes were lying in a heap and shuffled the articles of clothing around until he found his cell phone.

            Back at the table, while Marinette was scribbling away and shading in areas of the outfit, she looked over at Bridgette awkwardly.  Bridgette sighed in a way that revealed she was bored, and began flicking at the metal piece on the strap of Marinette’s bag.

            “So, how is it I’ve never heard of you before?” Marinette decided to ask. 

            “You have but…. You were a child and… maybe couldn’t process all the stuff on the news.”

            “On the news…?”

            “Eh, it was some scandal.  It happens in celebrity families.  It’s not a big deal really - oooh I like that!”  Bridgette pointed to a piece of armor Marinette had added to her creation  “You should get some flair action going on the shoulders!” Marinette smiled at the compliment before changing the subject back to the former.

            “Well, it was big enough to send you to America.”

            “It honestly wasn’t, it was just an… overreaction, on Adrien’s mother’s part.”

            “Oh well… you and Adrien know each other pretty well then.”

            “Yep!  Best buds!  There’s not a thing about him I don’t know!  Except he won’t divulge much about his not-so-secret crush on Ladybug.”  Marinette’s eyes bugged and the pencil slipped under her hand.  A thick graphite line cut right through the middle of the girl in the drawing.  “Oooh, is that a spear cutting right through her?  You should add some blood too.  Does that mean I get to spear everyone?”

            “He, uh… has a thing for Ladybug?”

            “Yeah, but he may not want you to know.  He thinks it’s soooo secret!  Don’t tell me you got a thing for her too?”

            “No, no!” Marinette defended quickly, sweating forming around her hairline. “It just surprised me as all.  Adrien doesn’t really talk about… well, much, honestly.”

            “He really hasn’t since his mother went missing to be perfectly honest,” Bridgette told her sadly.  She propped herself up onto the table while Marinette rubbed at the accidental line with a white block she held in her hand.  She looked over at Bridgette nervously, and bit her lip as she mulled over her words.

            “What exactly… happened?” She finally asked.

            “I know some things, but not everything.  I was in America when it happened,” Bridgette shrugged. “I think you should really ask Adrien that yourself.”  She leaned over to examine the alterations made to the sketch. “I’m not terribly fond of a helmet.”

            “But realistically speaking-”

            “I think going without a helmet will be fine for the shoot anyway.  Gabriel will probably want my face shown.  Better than having it constricted by a tight space.”

            “Are you sure about that, Miss Lemieux?” rasped a sinister voice behind the two of them.  “You are going to need a helmet if you have even a sliver of a chance with me!”  The two girls gasped and looked up to the see the man dressed in a tight black suit, a poncho-like cape creating an ominous shadow behind him and his eyes shrouded by his cap.  He wielded something that appeared to be something like a sword, lacking a hilt.

            “Are you sure about that outfit?” she responded confidently. “Because it looks like you may have fallen into a tub of tar.

            “You know _nothing_ about fashion!” hissed the man as he suddenly ran up to them.  Marinette arched her back away from the man.  Her eyes shifted around the room nervously as she searched for some way to escape from him. 

            “Clearly,” Bridgette muttered dully, holding up her arms. “That’s why I dress the way I do.”

            “And you!  You are a pathetic designer!”  The man waved his oversized needle across the table, and the papers turned into a coil of measuring tape.  “You are an amateur!  You lack the vision!”

            “Whoa, dude, okay, you obviously haven’t seen her work-”  With a swish, he raised his weapon at Bridgette, and she clasped her mouth shut.  Marinette whispered something into her purse.

            “You did this!  If only you hadn’t meddled-”

            “Hadn’t meddled?  What are you talking about you…. Ohhh… ohhhhhhhhh…”  Bridgette began to connect the dots, realizing this much have been the Italian designer from before. “You’re the Soren dude… and you got turned into an evil villain, didn’t you… so… my life is in danger?”

            “Yes.”

            “Oh.  Well then….  CAT NOIR!  LADYBUG!  HEEELLLP!”

The screeches from Bridgette’s mouth reached to the other room, where Adrien was beginning to dial his father’s number.  He gasped and peered around the corner of the door, seeing the man in black pointing the sharp end of the needle at Bridgette’s throat.  He quickly dropped his phone and then dug through the mess to find his lazy black pixie using his jean pocket as a nesting place.

            “Plagg, come on!”

            “I was dreaming I was in a castle made of camembert,” he yawned.

            “Plagg, wake up.  Claws out!”  The little creature had no choice and had vanished into his room.  A quick transformation had taken over Adrien as Cat Noir.  Carefully, so no one would see his emergence from the room, the cat scurried across the room when everyone’s backs were turned and then found himself into another room.  A window served as his exit so he could smash in through the front doors – as if he was outside the whole time.

            “I would watch it if I were you – You’re hanging on by a thread!”  Cat Noir smiled widely at his own remark, a glint of light seemingly reflecting off his sharp tooth.  He swung his tail around in a cocky sort of manner.  The man in black let his cape fall dramatically before he threw his head back in laughter.

            “Is that… Signor Soren?” Marinette whispered to Bridgette.  She continued to bob her head and shift her eyes in an attempt to look for an escape

            “Uhhh…. Huh.  You know it looks like him… why is he suddenly speaking so well?”

            “ _That_ ’s what you’re concerned about?  His language skills?”

            “Cat Noir is on the scene.  Ladybug can’t be far behind.  They got this.”

            “Even so, you should probably find a place to take cover.”

            “What about you?”

            “I meant me as well,” Marinette quickly said.

            “I have a front row seat this time!  Why would I hide?”  Cat Noir extended the stick he carried with him and spun it ferociously.  The stick appeared as if it made a black circle in front of his face.  The designer angrily flung his own oversized needle at the cat boy.

            “Do as she says!  Both of you go hide!”

            “Ooh, feisty,” Bridgette giggled.

            “ _Now_ , Bri…. _Beautiful_ , I mean.”  The cat’s eyes grimaced at his own comment, whether from the silliness of it or because he disagreed with it was hard to discern.

            “Well, when you smooth talk me like that…”  The girl flicked her fingers from her forehead to the superhero in a quick salute fashion, before scurrying off to find a room she could camp out in.  Monsieur Couture growled and jumped towards her direction.  The cat used his stick as leverage to fling himself in the air, took a moment to flip over twice, and then landed right in the path of the villain.  Marinette took the opportunity to disappear into one of the changing rooms in the farther corner.  She carefully propped a chair under a window before pushing out the pane of glass.  She squirmed, but it took very little struggling to slip out of the building.  She was barely outside when the small red character flitted out of her bag and bounced around the air in front of her.

            “Tikki we’re needed back there!”

            “Marinette, did you completely exclude that designer from the project he was personally called to do?”

            “I did, and I screwed up, I know that now.  But right now, that man is after Adrien’s cousin and we have to save her!”

            “You know what to do!”

            “Tikki, spots on!”  The sprite was gone, having disappeared into her earrings.  In a short moment, Marinette’s street clothes were gone, replaced by the polka dotted red spandex outfit and the matching domino mask that contained her identity.  She ran around the building and barreled in through the doors, only to find the cat deflecting all of the villain’s blows and trying his best to jump over him.

            “L.B.!  I was starting to get worried.”

            “How could I ever stay away?”

            “Aww, it’s sweet you’re finally starting to see my charm,” flirted the boy.  He sidled up to her side and clutched her waist tightly, making sure to bring his face close towards her so their noses were touching.  The air between them felt intimate, but the Bug simply laughed off, carefully patting him away.

            “Is charm what we’re calling it this days?” she teased.  He simply winked at her just as the designer lunged towards the two of them.  They jumped in opposite directions from each other and a chair shrank til it became a spool of thread.  He growled at his misfortune and then scanned the room again to locate them.

            “Hey come on, there’s no need to come apart at the seams!”  Cat yelled down at him.  Monsieur Couture pointed his needle sword away from the superheroes and at the door Bridgette had taken residence.  With a bright blue light, the door turned into a bolt of fabric and fell to the ground.  He leapt across the room towards the young girl.  She gasped and scrambled to get away.  A dark shadow zipped towards them, stopping in front of the villain to reveal Cat Noir as he swung his stick.  The villain flew backwards and landed on his stomach, grunting as he did.  The hero in black turned to look at Bridgette.  She blinked rapidly at him, chest moving quickly as she panted.  He bent down in front of her and offered his hand  There was a compassionate look glinting in his bright green eyes.  Something about him had a sense of familiarity and comfort to Bridgette.

            “Are you hurt?” Cat Noir asked while he helped her to her feet. She shook her head quietly.

            “I’m good, kitty cat,” she told him casually. “Hey, who’s your designer?  I’m liking the slick sexiness of that suit.”  Cat Noir widened his smile nervously, his canine teeth accentuated. 

            “Uh, well… magic.”

            “I have never heard of them before, are they..?”  Cat Noir stole away from her before she could finish her sentence.  Bridgette rolled her eyes. “Rude.”


	11. Le Heurt

Ladybug was busy caught in a spar with Monsieur Couture, spinning her yoyo quickly so it created a fan powerful enough to block her enemy’s strikes.  She found a break to spin over his head and then launched to pull herself onto a beam.  Cat Noir landed beside her, observing her as she watched their foe pensively.

            “The akuma has got to be in his weapon,” she guessed.

            “Any idea how we’re going to get it?”

            “Give me a minute,” the bug told him cautiously. 

            “Well, hurry it up before everything begins to unravel.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her as he playfully spun his tail around.  Ladybug smirked at him before quietly giggling to herself.

            “Really?  I thought you would at least want some clothes to unravel!”  His jaw fell slightly open while his green eyes grew to take up half the size of his face.  She threw her head back in laughter while he fell, catching one arm around the beam before letting himself fall to the floor.

            “Oh I’m such a bad influence on her,” he smirked to himself.  Meanwhile, the villain was still making his way towards Bridgette, throwing aside tables and chairs as she chased her towards the bathroom.  As he sprinted after her, the faint image of a butterfly encapsulated his face, while the echo of Hawkmoth could be heard in his head.

            “Fool!  I need you to get the Miraculouses first!  Then you can carry out your revenge!”

            “Yes, Hawkmoth, I just want to get that girl out of my way first and then I will…”

            “No!” shouted the Master Villain. “You must collect the Miraculouses first, or I will take away your powers!”

            “Eerrgghyhh… fine!  But that girl will be my bait!”  Monsieur Couture snarled, still leaping towards the bathroom Bridgette had locked herself in.  He plunged the needle-sword through the door, and with a strange magical force, it eased through and narrowly missed the girl.  Bridgette screamed, loud enough so the pointed ears on Cat Noir’s head pricked up.  He looked around quickly, catching sight of the Monsieur repeatedly stabbing at the door.

            “Hey you!” he shouted, twirling his stick threateningly.  Monsieur Couture turned to glower at him. “Don’t you think trying to get at a girl in the bathroom is a bit below the belt?”

            “That’s not below the belt…”  With a whisk of his weapon, the bathroom door fell into a pile of yarn.  Another yelp was heard from Bridgette as she processed the disappearance of the door. “This is!”

            “Is that a cat joke?” Cat Noir groaned. “It’s pretty lame.  You realize I’m not a real cat so it’s pretty easy to turn my nose up at some yarn?”

            “Not that, you idiot…”  The man reached out and grabbed a hold of the girl, using his needle as a knife and holding it up to her throat. “This!”

            “No!” shouted Cat Noir, his joking demeanor being replaced by terror.

            “Really?  I fought against the woman’s stereotype and now I’ve become the damsel in distress?” Bridgette remarked snidely. “I hope this isn’t something Gabriel expects me to endure every time I model for him!”

            “You shut it!” Monsieur Couture snarled.

            “Gladly… just, telling me what I’m shutting.  As long as it’s not my legs.  I’ve actually been told by several members of authority to do that and honestly, I’m not going to give in to the patriarchal system of-“

            “Oh my God, shut up!” He pressed the needle into her neck harder.  Bridgette coughed.

            “Lucky Charm!”  From somewhere behind them, Ladybug flung her yoyo up into the air.  It lit up as it transformed and then fell into her hands as a large rubber band.  In addition to being bright red with black polka dots it was also a foot wide and about six feet long.  Cat Noir backed up, joining her side. 

            “A rubber band?” he asked.

            “Well, I think… maybe…”  The heroine looked around, eyes falling on a couple of umbrella lamps, and a boot Bridgette has left lying around. “Cat Noir, grab that boot!”

            “Ok…ayyy…”  The hero ran to snatch the boot, rolling to avoid a hit from the villain as he still held onto the girl.

            “A rescue would be nice at any time,” Bridgette said impatiently. “I would rather I did not become a dress.  I’m sure I would be the sexiest looking dress but…”

            “You really must have driven your parents crazy!” said Monsieur.

            “You need to learn to keep your shirt on!” Cat Noir shouted.  Ladybug pulled on the legs of the lamps before shouting.

            “Cat Noir!  I need you!”

            “Words I have always wanted to hear!”

            “These lamps are bolted in place, and I need you to remove them!”

            “On it.  Cataclysm!”  His claws extended from the ends of his fingers, and then his fingers pulsed with energy.  He dragged his fingers along the floor until it rusted and gave way.  As the floor began to crumble, Ladybug threw her yoyo so it flew up and wrapped around a beam.  She swung towards the destruction and swept up the couple of lamps before they could fall away.

            “Help me!”  she pleaded when she landed.  Ladybug set the two lamps in a line, maintain some distance between them.  Cat Noir joined her side and began to help her stretch the band over the legs on the lights. 

            “What are we doing?” he asked.

            “We’re making a huge slingshot,” she told him.  He snapped his head up to look at her.

            “What?!”

            “We need to knock that needle out of his hand!”  She said to him in a frantic. “We have to get that akuma!”

            “I’m growing impatient!” shouted Monsieur Couture. “Give me those Miraculouses now!”  A small dot of blood appeared on her neck as he pushed in the needle.  Bridgette squeaked in pain.  Cat Noir twitched.

            “What if you miss?” Cat Noir picked up the boot from the floor and handed it over to his partner.

            “I won’t miss.”

            “But what if you hit her?!”

            “Cat Noir, please, do you have any faith in me at all?”  Cat Noir breathed heavily and then looked between his cousin and his partner… his friend.  He nodded slowly and shut his eyes in thought.

            “Bugaboo… I always have faith in you.”  He backed away while Ladybug loaded the slingshot with the boot.  Together, the two of them pulled on the band, walking backwards. 

            “Now!” screamed Ladybug when they reached the ideal point of projection. The two of them released the band and launched the boot hurling towards the target.  Bridgette took the moment of her captor being distracted by the flying footwear to slip out of his grasp.  The boot spiraled and struck the end of the needle.  It flipped out of Monsieur’s hands, releasing a metallic echo as it hit the ground.  For one moment, Cat Noir forgot his identity, catching Bridgette in his arms.

            “Are you okay?” he calmly asked her, touching the small spot of blood on her neck.

            “Where is he?!  Where is Adrien?!  Is he okay?”

            “I’m sure he’s all right, he probably went to hide.”

            “And Marinette, what about her?  Where did she go?”

            “I’m sure your friends are safe.”  Ladybug swept the needle off the floor and quickly busted it over her knee.  A black butterfly appeared, fluttering above her head.  Quickly, she held her yoyo out in her hand, using her finger to cut open the top.

            “No more evil doing for you little akuma,” she said, and then swung the gadget in the direction of the insect. “Time to de-evilize!”  The yoyo closed up over the butterfly, and then Ladybug retracted it back to her. “Gotcha!” She opened it back up and revealed the same butterfly, now pure white. “Bye bye little Butterfly.  Miraculous Ladybug!”  She threw the rubber band into the air, and there was a heavy surge in the atmosphere.  The doors, which had turned into fabric and yarn, were now back in place.  The lamps had returned to where they were, with a restored floor.  The studio quickly became just the way it was before, and Monsieur Couture changed.  His evil outfit was gone, and restored back to the fashionably clothed Soren, Italian fashion designer.  He looked around, bewildered by what just happened.   Cat Noir smiled and held out his fist to his partner.

            “Pound it!” they said together as their fists collided. 

            “Gotta bug out.  There’s something I got to take care of after I change.”

            “Til next time, Buggy,” Cat Noir said to her with affection.  She smiled, and threw her yoyo onto the beams, swinging out of sight out a window.  He looked down at Bridgette, still standing by his side.

            “Where’s Adrien, Cat?  Where is he hiding?”

“I’m sure he’ll appear soon, but are you all right?”  A thin red line glimmered brightly against his black gloved hand.    A similar color appeared in the girl’s cheeks while her hand pressed into the cut.  Her skin tightened and twinged around the area from the bite of pain she felt.

“Small cut.  I don’t even think  I’ll need stitches.  Hehehe… stitches… like when you sew… never mind.”

“Don’t make puns,” he laughed, lighting tapping her nose with his finger.  “Take care of yourself… okay?” He put his hand on her and she took a moment from freaking out to really look at him.  She breathed deeply as she looked at him, concern lining the emerald in his eyes.  Again, something felt… comfortable with him.  She felt a softening in her heart and just knew… something about his words made her trust him.  Bridgette managed a small smile and felt her pulse even.  He winked at her whimsically and then took off in the same direction as Ladybug.  In his absence, that quickening fear raged again.  Her throat tightened once more

            “Adrien!” she shouted, pushing open a couple of doors to find them empty.  “Adrien!  And Marinette?  Where did you two go!”

            “Oh… _mio Dio…_ ” muttered the Italian designer, now back in his regular fashion of a highly tailored suit and a finely embroidered scarf.  He was still a crumpled mess on the floor and held his head as if he had been knocked around. “Ehh…?”  In some distance across the streets of the city, a window slowly closed over the looming shadow of the villain Hawkmoth, who was put off by the actions of his latest victim.

 

            “You fool… your reluctance to listen to orders has let you to your downfall… I will get those Miraculouses… they will be mine…”

            The window shut completely and the Mastermind was left once again in darkness.

 

            “I’m right here!” shrieked a female voice, back at the Agreste studio.  Bridgette spun to see Marinette panting heavily as she pushed through the door of the corner room.  As she slowed her run, Bridgette caught up to her and quickly grabbed her arms. 

            “Marinette!  You’re okay!”

            “Yeah, I am…” she breathed, her eyes quickly setting on the cut on Bridgette’s neck. “But you’re not.”

            “Eh, it barely hurts,” Bridgette lied. “Where’s Adrien?!  He’s not with you?”

            “No!  He just took off?!”

            “Just disappeared!” Bridgette shouted.

            “Hey, calm down ladies.”  The two of them spun back around to see the blonde boy, casually walking towards them, and the bathroom door slowly shutting behind him.  He rubbed his hands in a fashion that seemed to display he wasn’t quite able to get them completely dry. “I had some business to take care of.”  Bridgette flung herself towards him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck so he was forced to take deep breaths.

            “You are an idiot!  You just took off and didn’t say a word about where you were!”

            “Bridge, I only went… to the… bathroom?”

            “Do you have any idea what happened here?  I was almost made into a dress and saved by Ladybug and Cat Noir!”

            “Oh, so you met them huh?”

            “As a matter of fact I did, and Cat Noir is a dream boat!”  Adrien twitched. “But this isn’t about him.”

            “My mother is showing again,” he taunted with a smirk. “Bridgette, you’ll soon learn you have nothing to fear when Ladybug and Cat Noir are around… especially Ladybug.”  Marinette turned her face away from them just as pink overcame her cheeks, a grin gracing her face. “Besides, you’re the one I should be concerned about.”  Adrien gently held her chin and tilted her head to get a better look at the cut.

            “It’s… fine…” The clicking of heels alerted them to the presence of Natalie with Mr. Agreste once more.  Soren rose and once again had a dissatisfied look on his face.  The costumers and make-up artists carefully emerged from their hiding places as well.  Someone even claimed to have been a spool of thread.

            “This does not appear to look as if you’re getting a lot of work done,” Mr. Agreste coldly commented.  His eyes were hard and without understanding as he scanned the mess around him. “I had not heard from you and thought I had better check on the shoot.”

            “Well, we had….” Adrien began, but Marinette cut in front of them and bowed her head as a sign of respect. “

“It’s my fault, Sir.” Mr. Agreste gasped lightly. “I upset Signor Soren. I ridiculed his work and devalued it instead of expressing it critically.”

“Uh, well technically that was-” Adrien began, but his cousin hurriedly hushed him and leaned in to hear better.

“I didn’t show respect and I took over the entire project myself, when I really should have asked him about possibly collaborating our ideas.  I’m afraid the photoshoot is not going to be able to take place today.”

“Uh?” muttered the designer.

“Um, yes… I appreciate your honesty, Marinette,” Mr. Agreste said to her. “But in the future, you would do well to be more responsible.  You’ll need to learn that quickly if you want to be a fashion designer.  I’ll reschedule the shoot for two weekends from now.  Please have your designs ready that day.  Natalie?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Send someone to clean this up.”

“Right away, sir.” Mr. Agreste walked out the door, his assistant following close behind them.   Soren tapped Marinette on the shoulder.  She gave him a small grin, but there was a redness to her ears when she looked at him.  Her eyes quickly fell to the floor.

“You speak truth?” he asked her.

“Yes.  I made it all about me,” she admitted, tucking her ponytail behind her ear. “I really should have been asking you for your opinions and how you thought we could change it while still avoiding any negative messages we might send.”

“You have much talent,” Soren said to her in broken English. “I like work with you.”

“Really?!”

“ _Si_.”  Marinette laughed girlishly, her shoulders shaking with excitement.  After a moment she composed herself and shook his hand abruptly.

“It will be a pleasure to work with you.”

“You,” he simply told her, expressing the same sentiment.  With a confident strut, Marinette flashed the other two a smile and patted Bridgette’s shoulder.

“I guess I’ll see you in school on Monday?” she guessed.

“Yes!  You will!” 

“Til then, see ya!”  She took off while they gathered up their things.  Adrien changed in the bathroom, but Bridgette had not had the luxury to.  After a quick wardrobe change, she joined Adrien on the steps in front of the studio.  The Gorilla was waiting for them beside the open limo door, an orange sunset nestling on the horizon to provide a perfect backdrop for the end day.

“Are you ready to go back?” he asked her as they scrambled into the vehicle.

“For once, I can actually say I am.  It will feel normal,” Bridgette told him while she snapped her seatbelt into place. “Hey, how old do you think Cat Noir and Ladybug are, anyway?”

“Ummm, I think it’s commonly accepted they’re teenagers.”

“Oh good!  So he wouldn’t be robbing the cradle then.”

“Um, excuse me?”

“Cat Noir!  Oh, you should have seen us.  There was this energy, I could feel it.  Oh, he has to be mine.”

“Uhhhh Bridgette, he wears a mask for a reason.”

“Yeah, he’s probably into some fun bedroom games.”

“Noo!” Adrien snapped in offense. “He wants to keep himself a secret.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m awesome with secrets.”

“I just don’t think you should pursue someone who is constantly having to clean up Paris.”

“Love conquers all,” Bridgette sighed wistfully.  “I mean, come on, the guy wears a bell around his neck, you really expect me to stay away from someone like that?!”

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“That’s sweet, Addy,” she cooed while she tapped his cheek.  “But you don’t need to worry.  I know there’s something between us.”

“Yeah…” Adrien coughed, deciding the outside world would be a better sight than his suddenly awkwardly lovesick cousin. “It’s called genetics.”

 


	12. Guerre et Paix

A satchel in a varying shades of purple nestled in Bridgette's lap, sitting atop her bed that early Monday morning. She had taken all the precautions; her alarm was set for a half hour earlier than she normally would have needed it to give herself more time to prepare, and make herself look presentable for the day. She took great care in selecting her outfit, only to trade out her black skinny jeans for a pair of flared blue ones with corset lacings up to the knee. Somehow, in her figure, the skinny jeans would not have helped her appearance on the first day of school she felt. She cycled through three different shirts before she decided on the green t-shirt with a black crackle pattern on it – the first shirt she had chosen. Unhappy with how her torso still looked in a snug t-shirt, she tossed on her grey and black plaid button up over her clothes. Not perfect, but it would do. Besides that, she hoped the 20 minutes she spent tracing around her eyes would draw insulting looks away from her own figure.

Halfway through doing her hair, she gave up, the fantastic ideas of updos being halted by the trouble the waves of dark curls gave her. On the days Bridgette was having a good hair day, her waves looked amazing and she received endless compliments on how beautiful it was. The other 350 days of the year, however, it was a pain to work and sometimes decided not to brush it – and she only had wavy hair. She was forever grateful she didn't have Shirley Temple curls.

A hearty breakfast, her bag all packed, but she still didn't believe her first day back in a Paris school was going to go well. Her blankets were twisted, a sign of rolling in her sleep and the greeting of the day was a heavy sweat and muscles constrained by reaction of anxiety. Bridgette couldn't recall the dream terribly well, but she saw images of a cigarette falling to the ground. A shovel was tossed into a mound of dirt. There was a set of chains. And some sort of old lock. The images caused her to shudder. It hadn't been a nightmare, but she felt an uneasy sense of doom from them.

A hollowing tapping retrieved her attention from the dark images she was conjuring in her mind and she found Nathalie, maintaining a secretary stance, in the center of her doorway. Bridgette stretched her neck and slowly rose, but didn't take a step towards the woman.

"The car is out front waiting for you," Nathalie stated in a stoic manner. Bridgette nodded her acknowledged meant, before releasing a defeated sigh. She was excited to become a regular part of Adrien's life again and be able to be a part of normal society, but it had been so long. She felt far more Americanized in Paris, even though in America she had felt she never left her Parisian demeanor. Bridgette tensed at the idea of people finding her too much of an outcast, despite being an Agreste by blood. Even so, she descended the stairs with caution and slipped out the front door, where the limo was waiting for her.

"Hey, are you all – uh woah," Adrien greeted cheerfully when she entered the back of the vehicle, before being caught off guard as he looked at her eyes – or rather the smoke of purple and black wrapping around her lids.

"I know, I overdid it a little this time," Bridgette groaned while she pulled her belt over her lap. "I would rather not be recognized this early. We won't be doing more photoshoots til next week and it will be awhile until they come out. I would rather keep my identity a secret til then." The corner of Adrien's lip quivered when he pursed them. Bridgette analyzed the apprehension on his face as he turned a little more towards his window.

"You do know that Chloe is in my class, right?" Bridgette's lower jaw dropped slightly, and her breathe grew heavier as memories tickled her with irritation. Her lip curled.

"Chloe Bourgeois," she stated in a seething tone. "Thankfully, it's been three years since I've seen her. My hair is longer and cut differently, I dress differently. I was young and awkward and no I've grown into myself-"

"Yeah, okay."

"What, do boobs embarrass you?" she taunted, resting her head on his shoulder.

"They do when it's about my cousin!"

"So you admit, you proudly enjoy naked ladies," Bridgette waggled her eyebrows and then giggled in a high-pitched way.

"You are so obnoxious," Adrien whispered, but still found himself revealing a sliver of a grin.

"Well I'm relying on exactly that to keep Chloe away from me."

In just mere moments, the limo slowed to the front steps leading to the school. Bridgette gawked at the visage of education. It was so strange to be back here, in front of a school she had passed many a times on her midday walks with her parents. It had this odd foreign sensation, but it also echoed with a twinge of familiarity. Old place, new experience. Her breath caught in her throat.

"You coming?" Adrien asked, slipping out on his side and heaving his bag over his shoulder. He walked around the back of the limo towards the school and stared at her with an encouraging smirk. The bodyguard whom Adrien affectionately dubbed the Gorilla held the door wide open for Bridgette and patiently waited for her to abandon the vehicle. She blinked a few times, the world coming to her forefront view and she processed the situation. Noiselessly, she adjusted her book bag and carefully emerged from the car. Adrien patted her back with pride and helped lead her towards the steps, his hand on her shoulder. A couple of people waved to Adrien and he returned the motion. A boy spotted Adrien from a distance and began to walk towards him. Bridgette watched the boy carefully, taking note of his appearance. His tan skin seemed to indicate a possible Latino descent and he wore glasses that made his brown eyes appear bigger than they actually are. His blue shirt had some strange eye emblem on it and Bridgette found it curious he was wearing a red ball cap. They hadn't been allowed to wear hats at school in America.

"Yo, Adrien! What's up, bro?" he greeted, using quite possibly one of the most annoying greetings Bridgette had ever heard. He patted Adrien on the back.

"Hey Nino. Oh hey so this is…"

"Bri!" Bridgette interrupted quickly, and stuck out her hand for him to shake. "I've recently arrived from America."

"Yeah, I can tell. Your accent is a little flat," he teased. "So, how do you know Adrien?"

"We model together," Bridgette quickly said before Adrien could get a word in edgewise.

"Funny, I've never seen your stuff…"

"It's very recent. I'm helping out his father. While I do that, I'm attending school with him."

"Awesome, well I hope you'll feel at home here. Hey, Adrien, you go on ahead. I'm going to wait for Alya," Nino said, gesturing to them to go on inside the school. Adrien urged his cousin along. She raised her shoulders as if she was trying to sink into herself while many other people looked on. Adrien patted her back, leading more people to really look at her, most of them girls.

"It's only because they don't recognize you," he assured her. She rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin slightly, hoping maybe her confident look would fuel her actual confidence. Instead, only more people stared. Adrien didn't seem to notice however, and gestured towards the open door to a classroom at the end of the hallway.

It was a very basic classroom, but different from what Bridgette had grown used to in America. There was a blackboard of course, and there was a teacher's desk. However, instead of desks there were tables, and they were in tiers so it would be easy for everyone to see. Towards the back were two girls sitting at a table and chattering away. One girl was dressed in dark clothing and the purple stripe in her black hair was hanging in her face. The girl she was talking to was very animated and was dressed in the most pleasant pink. Unlike her friend, she had very short blonde hair. Bridgette smirked, finding them to be quite the odd couple, but sweet.

Sitting quietly off to the side was a rugged looking girl, pink hair a little unkempt. She chewed on the end of a pen while she flipped through a textbook. Behind her sat a smaller boy, darker-skinned, who was flipping through a gaming magazine. He paused to adjust the glasses on his face before continuing to write. Farther up on the tiers a boy with long red hair furiously scribbled in a sketchbook. Bridgette pursed her lips, wondering what he could be drawing.

"We're still a little early," Adrien told her. "So not everyone is here yet. But up there are Juleka and Rose."

"She has awesome fashion taste!" Bridgette said, eyes lingering on Juleka's more gothic-inclined fashion sense. Adrien chuckled.

"I had a feeling you would say this. Rose is her best friend and she's absolutely enamored with Prince Ali." Bridgette giggled.

"Someone watch too many Disney films as a child?"

"No – well, actually it's completely possible. She's really romantic. But that isn't what I mean. She actually is friends with a Prince. They exchanged phone numbers and everything." Bridgette's eyes popped.

"Oh."

"That's Alix. She's always got some fresh bruise from some new sport she attended. Don't challenge her to anything. She's very competitive."

"Drinking contest!" She squealed happily.

"Uh, no. A sport."

"Drinking is a sport! Have you seen the universities in America?"

"You were on a University campus, once, Bri."

"Twice, actually. Only one time was I actually invited. I snuck on another time. Both times were Friday nights."

"And they believed you were supposed to be there?"

"You'd be surprised what a little make-up and wardrobe change can do if you want to look a little older."

"Uh… I don't even want to know how you accomplished that." Bridgette stepped aside to let in a tall and rather husky student into the room. He looked at her strangely, hopefully out of lack of recognition. Adrien simply rolled his eyes, letting his cousin know he didn't exactly support all her decisions.

"Over there is Max. Up there is Nathan. And the one who just walked into the room is Ivan. The spot by Nathan should be open."

"I thought Marinette was in your classroom?" Bridgette said sadly.

"She is, but she's probably not here yet. Nino was waiting for his girlfriend Alya, who is Marinette's best friend. She's probably going to wait up for her… Marinette is late about half the time. I mean, I'm really no better, but it happens. She'll be here though… probably." Bridgette nodded and walked up to the spot Adrien had gestured to. She bit her lip before carefully sidling into the seat by the redhead. He looked up to give her a quick smile before returning to his work. Bridgette rested her chin on her hand and analyzed the movements of his hand while he created lines and curves that soon transformed into shapes, and then shapes into images.

"Is that a comic book?" Bridgette asked boldly. He looked up at her with a fraction of surprise.

"Hopefully," he answered. "Just doodling, really."

"Those aren't doodles, dude. I doodle, and I have no artistic ability. I draw hearts and smiley faces. Your pictures look like they are about to leap off the page."

"Oh, uh… thanks." He turned back to his work. Bridgette raised a curious eyebrow and then looked back towards the front of the room. More people were ushering in now. A heavier set girl walked into the room, and Bridgette took note of her colorful dreadlocks pulled back with a bandana. She smiled and waved at Ivan, who was sitting in front of Bridgette. He waved back, enthusiastically so. After her walked in a muscular kid of some sort of Asian heritage, wearing a sports jersey. It didn't take much to figure him to be a jock. He carried himself like one as well – with confidence.

Laughing was heard down the hallway, and then was shortly followed by Nino, Adrien's friend. On his arm was a girl with brown hair, tips lightened to red, and skin a warm caramel color. Bridgette figured this to be Alya, his girlfriend, and her calculations were confirmed when Marinette walked in behind them. She was scrolling through her phone – complete with a ladybug charm - as she walked in.

"I told my dad, 'Only if you pick it up first!'" Nino laughed deeply at whatever amusing conversation they were having.

"Did you get in trouble then?"

"Nah, I think he was more shocked then anything." A woman with bright red hair and a handsome figure entered and took up residence at the front of the room where the teacher's desk was. Ms. Bustier, Bridgette figured, from the descriptions Adrien gave. Alya lightly touched Nino's arm and smiled at him, before she followed Marinette to the desk behind Adrien's spot. Nino also took a spot beside Adrien.

Not a moment later walked in the two last members of the class. A girl who was draped head to toe in the top designers' wardrobe and the brightest and shiniest blonde hair graced the top of her head. Behind her, trailing faithfully was a ginger-haired girl wearing glasses and clothing that was incredibly outdated. While Bridgette had no idea the redhead was, she knew exactly who the blonde girl was. If she didn't catch it from her "better than you" grace she carried with her, she certainly picked it up from the squawking of her condescending voice.

"I need them picked up at 5:45, got that Sabrina? Any earlier than that and the clothes risk getting wrinkled, but I need them before the poor person works."

"Yes, Chloe. I will make sure I pick those clothes up for you."

"Oh, Adrikins!" Chloe said in a sickly sweet chime. Bridgette retched and then slid back into her seat. Her voice was scratching the surface of her skull and then beating into the wound. That was one person she hoped she would never see ever again. "Are you having a good morning?"

"It's okay, how are you, Chloe?"

"I am completely wonderful! I am so glad you asked, you are such a caring person!"

"Okay, everyone to their seats so we can start today's discussion." Said the young teacher from in front of her desk. The remaining students scattered and found their seats quickly. Chloe didn't leave before blowing Adrien a kiss. He simply smiled politely. Bridgette slapped her hand into her face. After a few years, the only thing that had changed about that prima donna was her height. "Before we get into Moliere's Don Juan, I would like to introduce a new student." She gestured to Bridgette who was slumped in her chair in the back. "Class, this is-"

"Bri. My name is, uh… Bri. Please."

"Bri…" Ms. Bustier sounded a little unsure. "Very well. Would you mind coming up to the front and telling us a little about yourself?"

"Um... I guess." She threw her legs back over and crossed her arms, wishing she could simply pull into herself. Instead she was standing at the front and staring at the back wall and waiting for it to swallow her up. "My name is… Bri. I was born and raised in France but did briefly live in America. I guess that's not that big of a deal."

"You're correct, it's not that big of a deal," mocked Chloe as she stared at the ceiling with strong disinterest. "Americans are fat, slobbering messes who are greedy and have no regard for anything outside themselves. They have no history and no culture. The only thing they have to offer are their movie stars." The redheaded girl beside her shook her head enthusiastically. Bridgette breathed deeply, focusing on the pushing of her chest and the exhaling breeze below her nostrils. She shut her eyes tightly to hide away any angry emotions.

"I realize that America has had issues and still has some. Some of them you even said, but I don't think it's fair to judge everyone based on a reputation. It still has some good parts-"

"Oh whatever, you're just trying to make yourself seem so special. Well guess what, Miss America, choosing to reside in the USA for a time does nothing but make you seem less."

"Chloe…" Miss Bustier warned patiently.

"What makes you think it was a choice?!" Bridgette screamed, stirring everyone else up that was seated in the room.

"Bri! Why don't you go take your seat? I'll continue the day's lesson on Don Juan," the teacher threw a glare at Chloe and then switched to her smile for the rest of the class. Bridgette dramatically slammed her feet up to the top tier and took her seat beside Nathan. He looked past the fringe of hair in front of his eyes to analyze Bridgette's seething expression.

"Um, Chloe is extremely rude," he said politely.

"Oh really?" she snapped with a heavy sarcastic tone.

"I just mean… don't take it personally…" he mumbled to her. "I know there are many nice people in America, and you don't seem like someone who is self-centered."

"Well, thanks, I guess." Nathan moved his hand to rummage around in his pants pocket. He passed over a small wrapped candy. Bridgette looked at it curiously, and then back up at the smirking kind face of her seat partner. "I hope you like truffles." She giggled lightly and took away the small treat. At least there was one other person she could trust to offer her a smile or two.


End file.
